FT MEADE 
GenCol 1 




Class T7-2. 

Copyright N° 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 































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A PRAIRIE-SCHOONER 









** As sweet a girl as ever graced a prairie home" 



A PRAIRIE-SCHOONER 

A ROMANCE OF THE 
PLAINS OF KANSAS 


BY 

MARY M. NORTH 

\\ 



WASHINGTON 
THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
413 E LEVENTH STREET 



PZ ,3 


the library of 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAR 16 1903 

Copyright Entry 
Uf- — ( C T— 
CLASS CKy XXc. No 

i+o a / v r 

COPY B. 


COPYRIGHT, 1902 
BY 

MARY M. NORTH 


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To Theodora North McLaughlin , a womanly 
and a dutiful daughter. 


CONTENTS 


Preface 

9 

Chapter i— A Claim Shanty ri 

Chapter 2— A Mystery 

Chapter 3 — The Indians are Menacing 27 

Chapter 4 — An Innovation 37 

Chapter 5— A “Round Up” 44 

Chapter 6 — A Nation in a Day ^9 

Chapter 7— When Love’s a Field 66 

Chapter 8— A Kansas Blizzard 73 

Chapter 9 — New Light on an Old Subject 83 

Chapter 10 — Full of Sweetest Sunshine 89 

Chapter ii — O pposite Neighbors <p 4 

Chapter 12— A New Love I0g 

Chapter 13— The Mystery Cleared 116 


4 


PREFACE. 


When prairie schooners were used, they of- 
ten carried all the earthly possessions of a man 
or of a family. They started upon their long 
journeys bearing with them the hopes and fears 
of many hearts. Some of them had an ob- 
ject in view, although it were often distant : 
others were driven hither and yon by the will 
of the owner, until chance, mayhap, showed a 
good resting place. But of whatever destina- 
tion, some one, somewhere, followed the goings 
and comings with interest. How like a human 
life ! So when the incident of this story came 
to me, I was moved to call the tale “A Prairie 
Schooner.” 




A PRAIRIE-SCHOONER 


CHAPTER I. 

A CLAIM SHANTY. 

“Whichever way the wind doth blow 
Some heart is glad to have it so ; 

Then blow it east or blow it west, 

The wind that blows — that wind is best.” 

Southern Kansas was a cattle country, and 
but sparsely settled in the early seventies. The 
level prairies stretched away as far as the eye 
could see, the tall, lush grass rising and falling 
with the breeze, like the billows of old ocean, 
when lashed by a mighty tempest. Here and 
there, the sameness would be broken by can- 
yons the strata of the sides of which showed 
that in the far-away past, before the feet of 
man had pressed this hemisphere, a body of 
water had been confined within their limits. 
Now they were dry, except when an occasion- 


12 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


ally heavy rain made a little rivulet flow down 
them, soon to be dried up by a blazing sun. The 
“dug-outs” of the settlers were far apart, and 
few human beings were to be seen; but look 
where you would, great droves of sleek, brand- 
ed cattle, met the eye, for there were not many 
trees to intercept the view and distant objects 
were plainly seen. 

To this country, on the borders of civiliza- 
tion, and in “the great American desert,” but 
where the rigors of the northern winter were 
not felt, came Paul Deming and his young 
wife, and took a “claim.” Full of the ambi- 
tions of youth, and with all the aspirations of 
that happy time, they resolved to meet what- 
ever the west had in store for them with a for- 
titude born of love for each other and faith in 
a loving heavenly father, whose servants they 
were. 

Paul was considered by many as doing a 
fool-hardy thing when he decided upon Kansas 
as his future home, for to the people of the east, 
that was indeed far west, and almost beyond the 
borders of civilization. Besides, it was argued 
by some, that he would make a failure, as he 
knew nothing about farming, let alone farming 
where the conditions were so different from 
those surrounding him. Paul knew nothing of 


A CLAIM SHANTY. 


13 


that kind of work except by theory, for his 
father had only let him do a little work when 
he was out of school, in his garden. True, 
Paul had spent several summers with a college 
friend on his farm, but then he was just look- 
ing for pleasure, and not for work. 

Mrs. Deming was a sensible girl, who could 
adapt herself to circumstances, with a fortitude 
which knew no wavering. She had been ten- 
derly reared, within a stone’s throw of the Dem- 
ing s, and she and Paul had made mud pies in 
her father s yard when they were in pinafores. 
They had even played with dolls together, and 
when the time came for them to go to school he 
was her Knight as of old, and carried her books 
and championed her cause upon all occasions. 
They graduated at the same time from the high 
school, and when Paul went to college his 
“chum” and erstwhile playmate, went to a 
seminary for young ladies. They correspond- 
ed through the first year and this was kept up 
during vacation. Paul did not see her that first 
year, but his loyalty never flagged. He visited 
a friend in New York, who lived on a farm, 
and when, at the close of the delightful sum- 
mer he ran home for a few days before return- 
ing to his studies, Jennie, his friend and coun- 
sellor, had already left home. 


14 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


Their correspondence still went on, and each 
was looking forward to a pleasant meeting the 
next vacation, after Paul should have visited 
his friend, when their hopes were suddenly 
dashed by Paul’s falling from a horse and so 
severely spraining his ankle that it was impos- 
sible for him to come home, the injured mem- 
ber hardly being strong when he returned to 
college. There was no barrier in the way the 
next year, however, as Paul came straight 
home as soon as the college closed, and Jennie 
was also home. Paul arrived on Saturday, and 
the first glimpse of Jennie was at church Sun- 
day morning. His breath was almost taken 
away at the vision of lovliness which he beheld. 

She had developed, in the two years, into a 
queenly young woman, with a crown of red- 
brown hair, of the greatest profusion. Her 
soft brown eyes reminded one of the depths of 
a limpid woods’ stream, with now and then a 
flash, as of sunlight glistening through the 
trees. Out door exercise had kept the color in 
her cheeks, and the pink, which came and went 
with her thoughts, was accentuated by the 
clearness of the rest of her face. 

She was indeed, as one of the young men 
said, “As pretty as a picture.” It was well for 
Paul that he had the hour of service, in which 


A CLAIM SHANTY. 


15 


to collect his thoughts, for otherwise he would 
have been much perturbed when brought face 
to face with the one who held first place in his 
heart, even without the added charms which 
the two years had brought her. He was tall 
and manly, with broad shoulders, and a pene- 
trating hazel eye, which went well, with the 
generous suit of curling brown hair which nat- 
ure had blessed him with. Altogether, two 
people better suited to each other in appearance, 
it would be hard to find. Jennie had many ad- 
mirers, and some of them had done their best 
to find favor in her eyes, but she was impartial 
in bestowing her favors. There may have been a 
slight falling of the lashes when she met Paul 
that Sabbath morning after church, but none 
of her friends saw it, and there was no tremor 
when she frankly held out her hand and said, 
“Old friend, how are you, it has been ages 
since we met, has it not ?” and there was a rip- 
pling laugh, like the noise made by a happy 
brook as it sings to the elves and fairies, who 
show themselves only to it. Paul bent low 
o\er the hand, as he murmured his delight at 
again being at home after so many months, and 
being able to greet old friends. It sounded 
inane to him at the time, and afterwards he 
wondered how he could have been so silly as to 


1 6 A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

say nothing more suited to the occasion. That 
was the beginning of many happy days, for 
Paul, at least. Jennie’s most intimate friend 
was Kate Dorrith, who was a few years older 
than she, but between whom there had been 
such close friendship, that Jennie had been 
asked to be bridesmaid for her at her approach- 
ing marriage, which was to occur the week be- 
fore the dose of vacation. Kate was to be a 
farmer’s wife, and the house which was to shel- 
ter the fair bride, was receiving its finishing 
touches, and the next week was to see the two 
young girls, with the mother of Kate, in the 
city buying the interior furnishings so dear to 
the heart of all women. Of course Jennie was 
very busy, and Paul had to content himself 
with occasional glimpses of the bewitching 
creature. 

One day he was out for a drive, and over- 
took the two girls driving to the country. He 
drove as close to them as the safety of the two 
carriages permitted, and humbly said, “May I 
follow in your train?” The tormenting reply 
was, “If you keep your distance,” but with that 
he was satisfied, and suspecting where they 
were going, called out to them, that he had 
some business with one of the workmen, and 
was obliged to go to the farm. It was a pure 


A CLAIM SHANTY. 


*7 


fabrication, but he excused himself upon the 
grounds that such a fair object made the means 
justifiable. 

Whenever Kate needed Jennie’s advice that 
morning after they arrived, she had to disturb 
two people, in earnest conversation on a vine- 
covered veranda, for already the quick grow- 
ing morning glories were reveling in their right 
to clamber where they would. When the time 
came to go back, Kate said, “1 feel very guilty 
at taking Jennie in my buggy, but I am too 
selfish to give her up, and besides I could not 
stand the ridicule, if I should be seen driving 
back alone, when my company was with some 
one else.” 

To soothe the wound, she added, “Jennie is 
going to stay all night with me, and if you 
would like to call, I shall be very happy to see 
you, especially as I am going to have other 
company.” Paul laughingly retorted, “You 
shall see me early this evening, and I need not 
tell you that it will give me great pleasure to 
take Jennie off your hands for the time being.” 

Many drives took place after that, for Paul 
found out that Kate wanted Jennie’s taste in 
fixing her house, and he wanted Jennie’s com- 
pany, so all were suited. 


1 8 A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

The summer flew by all too soon. The wed- 
ding day was over, Kate was settled in her new 
home, Paul had gone to college and Jennie to 
the seminary, but not before she had promised 
the correspondence should be continued. 

After the four years’ course had been fin- 
ished, and both had graduated and they were at 
home, Paul asked the momentous question, and 
was gladdened with the answer his heart long- 
ed for. There followed a quiet wedding, and 
with the money which had been bequeathed to 
him when he should be twenty-one, he went in 
business, but was hardly under way when he 
contracted a cold which would not yield to 
treatment, and which developed into pneumo- 
nia. For a long while his life hung in the bal- 
ance, but his good constitution triumphed, and 
he slowly mended. 

There were many trips to the mountains and 
to the pine lands, but they brought no perma- 
nent relief, and the doctor said he must go west 
and rough it, living out doors as much as pos- 
sible. After an exceptionally hard, restless 
night, Paul and Jennie in an earnest talk, de- 
cided that they would go west, and would go 
as soon as they could close out the business. 

They had been in their new surroundings but 
a short time when the troublesome cough disap- 


A CLAIM SHANTY. 


19 


peared, and this made them so happy that they 
were inclined to look upon the hardships of 
the new country as episodes in the history of a 
checkered life. When the Demings arrived in 
the west, Paul left his wife at Wichita, while 
he, with wagon and guide, went out on the 
prairies in search of the claim he had selected 
at the land office. When it was located, he staid 
long enough to fix a “dug-out,” and then hast- 
ened back for the one who was to make of the 
rude habitation a home. A canyon had been 
selected, and in the side of this an excavation 
was made. Then with the lumber which the 
wagon had brought, a little room was built in 
front of the underground one. This was for 
all purposes, except cooking. When the “dug- 
out was finished, it was quite comfortable, 
and soon began to assume a home-like appear- 
ance, for the big trunks which had come from 
the east had almost everything in them which 
a western home would need, except furniture 
and provisions. These things had to be hauled 
some distance, and when Paul went for them 
with the team he purchased soon after his ar- 
rival, his wife went along, and a jolly time they 
had. The claim was well-watered, exceedingly 
fertile, and the Demings felt that they were for- 
tunate in their selection. There were no near 


20 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


neighbors, and these two were all in all to one 
another. Kind friends kept them supplied 
with reading matter, and letters arrived more 
frequently than there was time to spare to go 
for them, as the postoffice was several miles 
away. 

To the west of them lay a ridge of hills, 
while beyond, was a knoll, which had just been 
selected as the site of the prospective town of 
Medicine Lodge. This site was of historic in- 
terest, for it was there, that the Osage Indians, 
for many, many moons, had gathered after 
their skirmishes, or wanderings, to consult 
their Medicine Man, and hold their councils. 
Here it was, that the Medicine Man pitched his 
tepee, and rubbing his herbs together gave 
forth his oracles. 

Here also the Government officials met the 
Indians, and consummated the treaty, which 
caused them to leave the lands in possession of 
their hated foe, the “pale faces.” 

This spot is about twenty miles, more or less 
from what was at that time the northern 
boundary of the Indian Territory. 

The original town-site comprised four hun- 
dred acres of ground. It was situated on the 
rising land between the Medicine River, and 
Elm creek. 


A CLAIM SHANTY. 


21 


From this place, there is a fine view of the 
surrounding country for many miles, and to 
the west, there is a line of red hills, with almost 
inexhaustible beds of gypsum within their 
bosom. 

As soon as the “town” was laid out, the tide 
of immigration set in, and when this story 
opens, there were a few general stores, on a 
small scale, a blacksmith shop, which was a cry- 
ing necessity, as there were always horses to be 
shod — those belonging to the Government, or 
those of people on the “trail,” and wagons to be 
repaired. To this embryo town came also a 
physician, and with the first settlers, there were 
two lawyers. There were a few houses which 
were entitled to the name, a number of shan- 
ties, and “dug-outs” of settlers who had come 
west to try their fortunes, and get rich, as they 
fondly hoped, by raising cattle or some other 
method which might present itself. There 
was also a boarding-house for those who were 
v/ithout a home. 

The Demings were cut off from the place by 
the distance, as well as by the ridge of hills, 
but they did not mind. Each day brought many 
duties, and both were kept busy with the cattle 
and the fowls, as well as with the crops. In a 
manner, Paul was a “cow-boy” for he looked 


22 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


after his own herds, and his wife was often his 
companion on his trips as she did not care to 
stay at home alone, nor did her husband like to 
leave her, for roving bands of Indians were 
sometimes seen about there, and a number of 
times men at the postoffice in town, had told of 
their depredations in other localities. 


CHAPTER II. 


A MYSTERY. 

“I know that the soul is aided 
Sometimes by the heart’s unrest ; 

And to grow means often to suffer ; 

But whatever is, is best.” 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

One morning Paul said, “J ennie > Fll help 
with the work, and when it is finished, I would 
like to have you go with me, as I must drive 
the cattle nearer home ; their range is too far 
off. I will saddle ‘Commanche’ for you, while 
you put up a lunch.” 

The prospect of the long ride over the level 
prairie gave much pleasure to Jennie, and lent 
fleetness to her movements, so that in a little 
while she was ready, and when the lunches 
were secured to the saddles they set out at a 
brisk canter. 

The fresh morning breeze blew in their faces, 
all nature seemed in harmony, and as they can- 


24 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


tered on, they chatted as those will, to whom 
love holds out his sceptre of roses, and hope 
spreads enchantment in the pathway. These 
young people, had each other, and with health 
crowning their days, and the prospect of plenty 
for their wants, there was joy and harmony in 
their lives. The level prairie, bounded on three 
sides, only by the blue horizon, might have 
tired some, with its sameness, but not these 
two. There was always something new to 
them, when they saw it together. Now a Jack- 
rabbit, with his erect white ears, with their tiny 
tips of black, would stand up before them for ari 
instant, then with long springing leaps, which 
would easily distance an ordinary horse, would 
get himself to the safe shelter of a far-a-way 
tuft of the luxuriant grass, which covered the 
prairie. Again, there would sit beside the lit- 
tle heap of earth, which served for the entrance 
to his home, an innocent Prairie dog, with his 
twinkling black eyes, waiting for a midge, or 
other insect which he would leap to catch, and 
settle himself for another. As the horsemen 
drew near, he gave a somersault which landed 
him head first at his door, and quickly disap- 
peared, until all danger had passed. 

Occasionally a hideous rattle snake would 
be seen in the company of an innocent-looking 


A MYSTERY. 


25 


owl, as he sat beside a hole in the ground, blink- 
ing at the sun — for it is a notorious fact, that 
these two creatures, of seemingly opposite 
tastes, often live together in the closest friend- 
ship. As there are no trees, or at least not 
many, to shelter flying creatures, it is no unus- 
ual thing for them to seek an abandoned “dug- 
out” of some animal, and make their home in 
it 

There were many quail running in every di- 
rection and uttering the sound familiar to ears, 
east and west, of “Bob White,” which called 
forth an answering sound, so that the air was 
filled with the notes. There were also song 
birds, which lent their melody to the occasion, 
as perched upon a strong stem of joint grass, 
they swayed with the wind, and gave forth the 
notes of joy, in harmony with the beauties of 
Nature. All these things were enjoyed by the 
two on horseback that morning, as they jour- 
neyed. 

About a mile from the ranch, they had to 
cross the old Government trail. The horses 
were then going at an easy gait and Paul and 
Jennie were still chatting as they drew near. 
Suddenly Jennie uttered an exclamation, which 
caused her husband to look ahead; there upon 
the ground, in the middle of the road, lay the 


26 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


queerest looking bundle he had ever seen. In 
an instant Paul was on the ground, the cattle 
forgotten in his excitement, and the bundle, 
dirty as it was, picked up and examined. Then, 
with an indescribable look upon his face, he 
said in a hushed tone, “J en m e ' its a dead 
baby.” 

It did not take his wife long to dismount, to 
gather the little bundle up in her arms, and 
undo the wrappings. 

“It is not dead; it has cried until it is ex- 
hausted,” said she. 

“I’ll ride home and give it a warm bath, and 
some milk. Poor little thing, how did it get 
here?” 

Paul helped her to mount, and with the baby 
in her arms, she sped away almost like the 
wind to the cabin. So rapid was her gait, that 
her husband could hardly keep up with her. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE INDIANS ARE MENACING. 

“My little craft sails not alone; 

A thousand fleets from every zone 
Are out upon a thousand seas ; 

What blows for one a favorite breeze 
Mjight dash another with a shock 
Of doom upon a hidden rock.” 

The water was still warm in the kettle, when 
Paul and Jennie arrived home, and it was the 
work of only a few minutes to start the fire, 
and soon have the kettle steaming. The poor 
little bundle, in the meantime, had been un- 
wrapped, and was ready for its bath. Under 
the miserable rag of a blanket was a flannel 
skirt and a daintily embroidered linen shirt, 
now almost black with dirt; these were laid 
aside, as Jennie said they might be needed at 
some future time. Vigorous, yet gentle, rub- 
bing, soon had the desired effect upon the tiny 
waif, who opened its eyes, and then Jennie gave 


28 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


the poor, starved creature a spoonful of warm 
milk, which had been prepared by Paul, while 
the baby was being rubbed back to life. 

After a few minutes a second spoonful was 
given her, and then Jennie wrapped the ex- 
hausted little one in a warm shawl and gently 
rocked her until she fell asleep. 

Paul said, “She is dark enough to be an In- 
dian, but she has not a single Indian feature, 
and those pieces of clothing never belonged to 
an Indian.” 

True enough, she was dark, for her hair was 
black and so were her eyes. “Jennie, I’ll go 
over to John Lee’s and see if he is going to town 
soon. I’ll tell him to keep a sharp lookout, and 
also to make inquiries. I would go myself, 
but I do not like to leave you alone so long. I 
know the parents must be almost wild with 
grief at their loss. It’s very strange about those 
fine garments being so soiled.” 

“Yes,” said Jennie, “it is very mysterious, 
but it is our duty to care for the child until her 
parents are found, and we must use every 
means to locate them.” 

Then, with a kiss for his wife, Paul hastily 
threw the saddle on his horse again and rode 
off towards Lee’s. He knew something was to 
pay before he arrived at the house, for there 


THE INDIANS ARE MENACING. 


29 


was an unusual commotion, and the family 
seemed to be packing up as for removal. Just 
then Lee saw him and came down the road. As 
soon as he was within hailing distance he said : 
“Deming, go right home and get your wife, 
for the Indians are on the warpath. A man 
was chased almost to town day before yester- 
day. I was down to Kiowa for some supplies, 
and heard it on my way home. All the men are 
arming, and a stockade is being built at the 
‘Lodge,’ in which the women and children are 
to be put. I am just ready to start. You’d bet- 
ter hurry. Bring your gun. Good-bye,” and 
with that he darted back to the house, from 
whence had come an imperative call for him, 
leaving Paul actually gasping for breath, for 
all this had been said so rapidly that he had not 
time to get in a word, and his errand was still 
unaccomplished. 

He knew that it would be useless to go to the 
house, for all of the family seemed to be too 
busy to attend to anything but their own af- 
fairs. Already the great “schooner” was at 
the door, and the small children were in it, in 
their innocence looking upon the whole thing 
as a picnic, which did not come to them very 
often. The father and mother were busy pack- 
ing whatever they could handle, and it was 


30 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


plainly to be seen that they would soon be ready 
to start for a place of safety. 

Paul turned his horse’s head towards home, 
and set off at a brisk trot. He lived in such an 
out-of-the-way part of the country that he sel- 
dom saw any one, or heard any news, except 
from a distance, such as was in the papers 
which came regularly from his old home. Now 
he must hurry, for who could tell what might 
not happen even in the short time it would take 
him to get home. 

When he arrived Jennie was standing in the 
door, a very fair picture, indeed, waiting for 
him. Her first words were, “The baby is doing 
nicely, and is sleeping naturally.” She had 
washed the little garments which were on her 
when found, and they were then hanging out 
to dry. 

Paul, who was all excitement, told her of the 
Indian “scare,” and asked her what they would 
better do. Between them and the stockade was 
a long stretch of country, a large stream of 
water, and — not the least by any means — those 
hills, in which might lurk the Indians. 

After thoroughly discussing the matter, they 
decided to remain home that night and start in 
the wagon early on the morrow, carrying pro- 
visions along to last for several days. While 


THE INDIANS ARE MENACING. 


31 


Jennie busied herself gathering together the 
necessary things for the journey, Paul over- 
hauled his gun, got the old spy glass out of the 
trunk, and put everything about the place in 
order. While working they kept up a constant 
stream of conversation about the baby. There 
were many conjectures as to how it came in the 
road, why its clothing was so soiled, and the rea- 
son for so little of it. Paul thought that the par- 
ents had heard of the Indian uprising and were 
hurrying to a place of safety, and during the 
night the baby had rolled out of the back of the 
“schooner/’ “But,” said he, “we will not worry 
any more about the matter, for we shall doubt- 
less find the parents at Medicine Lodge almost 
frantic over their loss, and expecting to hear 
something of their little one from each new 
arrival.” 

After a wakeful night, Paul and Jennie arose, 
and while the latter hastily prepared breakfast 
the former got the horses ready, and soon the 
big wagon was at the door. Together husband 
and wife worked to get off and when the baby 
had been washed and wrapped in some gar- 
ments of Jennie’s, it was fed, and then all were 
ready for the trip. As they drove along at a 
smart gait, Paul kept scanning the horizon 
ahead through his glass. Finally his intentness 


3 2 A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

caused his wife to ask if he saw anything unus- 
ual, and he said : “I fear that we will be lost if 
we go ahead, for I see moving figures on that 
ridge ahead of us. We shall have to turn back. 
I hope we have not been discovered. I am cer- 
tain they are Indians, for they bob up like 
snakes every few minutes, and seem to be creep- 
ing as if intent upon mischief. I think they 
are watching something ahead, and in all prob- 
ability have not seen us.” 

Jennie was trembling with excitement and 
nervousness, as one always does when danger 
is near. 

To turn the horses did not take long, and 
they needed no urging to go on the homeward 
way, and it was therefore not long before the 
travelers came within sight of their little “claim 
shanty.” They determined to remain as quiet 
as possible, make no fire, for the smoke to 
betray them, and to remain together, keeping 
on the alert, so that they should not be taken by 
surprise. 

While Jennie kept the vigil in the afternoon, 
Paul slept with his gun at hand, so that he 
might be ready when called, and that he might 
be the better able to watch at night while Jennie 
slept. The baby had brightened up wonder- 
fully, and was already taking notice, and was 


THE INDIANS ARE MENACING. 


33 


really interesting. She was less than a year old, 
that was evident, and Paul and Jennie decided 
that she was probably six months old. 

After a week of intense anxiety and ceaseless 
watching, Paul concluded that the Indians must 
have gone away, so he went about his work as 
usual, waiting for a favorable opportunity to 
go to one of the neighboring towns to make 
inquiries regarding the baby. Finally the time 
came. One of the plows needed repairing, and 
he was obliged to go to a blacksmith. While 
the smith was doing his work, Paul sought a 
lawyer, and after talking awhile about the 
topics of the day asked about the Indians. He 
found that there had been quite a “scare,” and 
the stockade was filled during that week with 
women and children, while the men watched. 
The Indians had left after a few days, and now 
all was quiet. 

The gentleman, in response to a question, 
told Paul that he was acquainted with all who 
had sought shelter in the town. Paul told him 
of the strange find, and asked if any one had 
complained of a loss. He was assured that no 
one had said anything regarding a loss of any 
kind, and felt sure that if any of the families 
had experienced a loss which would be felt as 


34 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


much as that, he would have been sure to have 
heard of it. 

Paul was in a quandary. He left his address, 
and concluded to say nothing more about the 
matter, but to await developments — if there 
were any. He made some purchases, got his 
plow and team, then started home to talk over 
the mysterious affair with his ever ready coun 
sellor — Jennie. 

When Paul arrived he found his wife trying 
to fashion some garments for the babe ; he told 
her of his fruitless errand, the directions he had 
given the lawyer, and said, “I confess that I am 
confronted by the most unsolvable riddle that l 
have ever come across.” 

Jennie broke in with, “Oh, Paul, let’s keep 
her for our own — that is, if we do not soon 
hear of her parents.” Paul felt a curious 
twitching under his vest; a responsive chord 
was touched, for in so short a time as the little 
one had been with them she had endeared her- 
self by her cunning little w^ays, and by that 
nameless something which the weakness of a 
tender babe always inspires in a true and lov- 
ing heart. 

“Well, Jennie, if we do not hear anything 
within the next six months — that is, if her pa- 
rents do not claim her, and you still feel that 


THE INDIANS ARE MENACING. 


35 


you want her — we’ll adopt her. What say 
you?” Jennie eargerly assented to the proposal. 

Time flew by, the six months of probation 
had passed, the babe was not claimed, and by 
the advice of the lawyer, Paul and Jennie legal- 
ly adopted her. They called her Evalyn. Paul 
had prospered, but as yet had not enlarged his 
house, for lumber was very scarce in that 
region, the only timber being small trees along 
the water courses. Being a progressive man, 
and having decided to remain in his western 
home, he sent away for young trees and for 
seeds, planted them, watered them carefully in 
dry weather — and they had plenty of it — and 
was soon rewarded by seeing thrifty trees lift- 
ing their green heads proudly to the sun, and 
he bade fair to soon have a well-timbered claim, 
with a good orchard upon it, for you may be 
sure he had not forgotten to plant fruit trees in 
abundance. In that mild climate, they come 
into bearing sooner than in the east, and the 
fruit has a more delicate flavor, the result of 
congenial soil and plenty of sunshine. 

The next year, after consultation with Jen- 
nie, Paul decided to enlarge his home. The 
“claim shanty” had done well enough while he 
was feeling his way, but now that he had a sure 
thing in his crops and trees he felt that the time 


36 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


had come for something better. With the big 
wagon he hauled lumber from Wichita, and 
with the help of a neighbor, who had been a 
carpenter in another state, two rooms were 
erected in front of the shanty and “dug-out.” 
In this typical western home, life went on as it 
did in thousands of others. Paul was busy all 
day with his cattle and crops, while his wife at- 
tended to her house-work and the baby, who 
was now a winsome creature, following her 
mother everywhere, and the pet and delight of 
her and of Paul. They had ceased to think of 
her as other than their own, and loved her as 
dearly as it was possible for a child to be loved. 
Her prattle was as music to their ears, and when 
she first said “papa,” Paul was delighted be- 
yond measure. 


CHAPTER IV. 

AN INNOVATION. 

“We go to plant her common schools 
On distant prairie swells, 

And give the Sabbaths of the wild 
The music of her bells.” 

— Whittier. 

Another summer was passing. Paul’s crops 
were good, some had already been harvested, 
and Jennie was preparing for a visit east. There 
were neighbors now, nearer than John Lee, for 
men had begun to find out that a living could 
be made in the “Great American Desert” with- 
out that ceaseless grind and hard labor which 
was required in Ohio and States farther east. 
They also found that the climate was salubrious 
and the winters mild, quite different from the 
raw, freezing weather of Illinois and Indiana. 
So farmers, mechanics and teachers, were com- 
ing and taking “claims” if they could find any 
unappropriated. Otherwise they purchased 
land. In every direction “claim shanties” were 


3 « 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


dotting the prairies, and quite a town had 
sprung up, where in 1873 there were only two 
or three houses. 

This town is beautifully located, with a rise 
of hills on two sides, so unlike the surrounding 
country. It is well-watered, while stretching 
away in all directions are the fertile, grassy 
prairie lands which can be made to yield grain 
enough to supply the wants of all those who 
will till them, and to bring in a good income 
from the surplus. Then the grass ! Sweet and 
juicy for the cattle, even in winter, when to all 
appearances it is dried up and worthless. 
Enough hay could be gathered from the high- 
ways and unoccupied lands to pay the debt of 
any one of the States. 

Paul and Jennie deplored the fact that there 
was no regular preaching. Occasionally a 
preacher came, and when this was known in ad- 
vance they made it a point to attend the ser- 
vice. Sometimes there was a little lawlessness 
among the young bloods in the town, but gen- 
erally it was quiet. Once, some of the wilder 
of the young men planned to “snore the minis- 
ter down.” Some of their number were sta- 
tioned in various parts of the house; one pre- 
tended to be asleep and snored ; this was follow- 
ed by another prolonged snore in another part 


AN INNOVATION. 


39 


of the building; then there were several, as of 
a mighty chorus in response to the challenge 
from the first. Then another and another, 
without intermission, loud and long, until their 
object was accomplished, and there was too 
much confusion for the preacher to proceed. 
As that mode of procedure grew tame other 
methods were tried, but the preacher, nothing- 
daunted, did not give up, and finally the law- 
lessness was crowded back and out. 

A schoolhouse was built near the home of 
Paul while Jennie was away, and that gentle- 
man had a plan in his head which was only 
waiting for the return of the mistress of the 
house to come to perfection. Jennie and Eva- 
lyn had their visit, and returned to find Paul in 
distress ; a hot wind had blown and injured the 
corn which he had hoped to have to fatten his 
hogs on, the next winter. He could not tell the 
full extent of the injury until the time came to 
gather it. When that time arrived, however, he 
was relieved to find that there was more than a 
half crop, and the hogs were duly fattened, and 
in time found their way to Kansas City, where 
they were disposed of for a good price. 

In the meantime, what of Evalyn ? She had 
so endeared herself to Paul and Jennie that they 
blessed the day when Providence guided them 


40 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


to the little bundle upon the highway. She was 
robust, with a sunny disposition and bright 
face. Her eyes were a lustrous brown, almost 
black, and her hair was very dark and curly. 
She bade fair to make a handsome woman. 
She was a very bright child, quick to learn, and 
Jennie had taken advantage of this, and was 
daily imparting instruction to her. The plan 
which had begun in Paul’s brain while Jennie 
was away had been imparted to that sympa- 
thetic woman immediately upon her return, and 
the results were seen the next Saabbath in a 
crowded schoolhouse when Paul asked for vol- 
unteers as teachers in the Sabbath School 
which was then organized. He was elected 
•superintendent, and Jennie became the teacher 
of the class of women. Paul’s nearest neighbor, 
Mr. Morea, who had several boys of his own, 
took a class of boys, among them being three 
of John Lee’s sons. A collection was taken up 
with which to purchase papers, and a nice sum 
was the result. The following week the wife of 
another neighbor, who had been a professor in 
an eastern institution of learning, and who had 
sought and found health in the bracing ozone 
of the western prairies, drove over to Paul 
Deming’s, and offered to teach a class which 


AN INNOVATION. 


41 


should take in the little ones, and this fully pro- 
vided for the needs of the school. 

When next we look into the home of the 
Demings there is a curly-haired little girl about 
eight years old, busy with her books, when a 
voice calls her, and she quickly responds. 

Mrs. Deming says, “Set the table dear, for 
papa will be here soon, and we want everything 
ready when he comes.” There has been an ad- 
dition to the home since we saw it, and it is no 
longer a typical “claim shanty,” but is now a 
comfortable house with four rooms in addition 
to the “dug-out.” 

The table is set for six, because Paul has gone 
to the station for a family of three, who will 
live on the ranch opposite. 

They are old friends, and will stay with the 
Demings until their own house can be put up. 

When the heavy wagon drove up, it contain- 
ed Mr. and Mrs. Hodge, with their son Horace, 
besides Mr. Deming, who was driving. The 
son was a manly little fellow of 12, and as he 
and Eva had met when the latter was east, the 
acquaintance was quickly renewed. As soon as 
the horses were disposed of, supper was an- 
nounced. It consisted of light white bread, 
dried beef, prepared by Paul, creamed potatoes, 
preserves, jelly made from the native sand 


42 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


plums and flavored with rose geranium, deli- 
cious coffee and cream, and a puffy white cake, 
well named Angel’s food. After supper, while 
the ladies busied themselves with the dishes, 
the men looked about, while the day disappear- 
ed. Oh, the western twilights! when the sky 
is a flood of glory, with its intense purple and 
gold, such as no artist would dare attempt to 
reproduce, even if he had the colors, for those 
who had never seen such a sight would declare 
he was crazy. When the brilliant hues had died 
out, leaving only commonplace darkness in 
their stead, all seated themselves for a chat. 
Eva brought out her books for Horace to look 
at as soon as the lamps were lighted, but he pre- 
ferred to hear her talk of her western life. 
While the parents talked of sterner things, 
hopes and prospects in the new country, Eva 
entertained Horace with a description of the 
school and of those who attended. 

She was very much interested in the Sabbath 
School, and said, “Last Sabbath a young man. 
who is organizing schools in the west, was 
here. He was very much pleased to find that 
we had a school, and that it was in such a pros- 
perous condition. He told papa that a good 
work had been started, and he talked beautiful- 
ly to the children, and told them of the interest 


AN INNOVATION. 


43 


children in the east were taking in the western 
schools.” Horace was very much interested in 
the account of the way Eva rode to school. She 
told how she tied her pony with a long rope, 
so that he might eat the prairie grass while she 
was in school. He laughed heartily when she 
told how the children for a long while after the 
schoolhouse was built, had to carry jugs of 
water to school, but that finally the men had 
dug a cistern, but a dry spell came on, and as 
they were not busy, they took their teams, 
hauled water in barrels from the creek, and fill- 
ed the cistern. Their tongues were not still ’till 
after the “good nights” were said, and even 
then Eva called out to Horace that she would 
show him a “buffalo wallow” the next day. 

As soon as the lumber could be hauled, Mr. 
Hodge erected a comfortable house for his 
family, and when it was completed, they left the 
hospitable roof of the Demings, but only to go 
within sight and sound of their friends. Horace 
started to school at once, and every day he and 
Eva, with Herbert Morea and his sister, walk- 
ed to and from the schoolhouse together. 


CHAPTER V. 


A "ROUND up/' 

“Our lives will be told by the light we shed 
On those who follow where we may lead, 

And our years be measured by what is said 
On the soul’s worn page, which the Judge will 
read.” 

The years went by, and Eva grew into a 
beautiful girl. Mr. and Mrs. Deming had long 
since ceased to conjecture as to her parentage. 
They were devotedly attached to her and were 
proud of her desire to learn. Again there had 
been a visit to the east, but this time Paul had 
accompanied his family, leaving the ranch in 
charge of the trusty hired man. The Hodges 
still lived opposite. Horace had fulfilled the 
promise of his childhood, and was a fine speci- 
men of noble young manhood. He had attend- 
ed a business college in Winfield, and for some 
time had been studying law. Herbert Morea 


45 


A “ROUND UP." 

had chosen medicine as his profession, and had 
been in Kansas City, studying hard. 

Eva, too, had kept at her books and with 
the help of her parents was in advance of her 
class. 

All were now at home enjoying a well-earned 
vacation. 

Everybody rode horseback in that prairie 
country, and as Eva enjoyed long trips, she 
often went to Medicine Lodge with her father. 
She had met a number of the girls once or twice 
when she attended church, and had been invited 
tc come to see them when in town, so it was 
with anticipations of a pleasant time that she 
told her father one morning, in answer to his 
invitation, that she would go with him. 

It was a morning when all nature is in tune 
and the pulses bound in harmony with the sur 
roundings. A light breeze stirred, and the 
wild flowers nodded, as if acknowledging a sa- 
lute. Before them occasionally a Jack rabbit 
bounded, fleet of foot, keen of scent and quick 
of ear, always seeking a hiding place in the tall 
grass. Now and then odd balls of a light feath- 
ery green, called “cyclone plant,” rolled before 
them, always gathering unto themselves oth- 
ers as they went, like an ever increasing snow- 
ball, until they had attained an immense size. 


46 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


The whir of wings was heard and the call of the 
“Bob White,” from time to time, and in each 
sight and sound there was novelty for Eva. Her 
rippling laugh was music to the ears of her 
father as she gazed upon the changing panora- 
ma and found new delights at each step. At the 
postoffice she met some of the girls, who told 
her that they were preparing for a demonstra- 
tion on the Fourth of July, and she was asked 
to take part. The matter was in the hands of the 
wife of one of the ministers, and she had decid- 
ed to have a “Procession of the States” with 
girls on horseback. The thirteen original 
States were to head the line of march, and were 
to be represented by thirteen girls on white 
horses. The other states were to follow, and 
the girls were to ride any color horse they could 
get. 

They were then going to a meeting, as the 
dress was to be decided upon. After a little 
urging by the girls, Eva consulted her father, 
who said he would wait until her return. 

She was introduced to the lady who was 
chairman of the committee, and who gave her 
a cordial invitation to join in the coming fete. 
A fter she was told the requirements, she found 
that she could do so, and then directions having 
been giving regarding the dress, she bade her 


47 


A "ROUND UP." 

friends good-bye, and rejoined her father, who 
entered into the plans with as much zest as if 
he were to be one of the party. 

Mrs. Deming also was pleased to think that 
Eva could in any way help. The fourth dawned 
as perfect a day as one could wish, and the 
Demings were early astir, and finished their 
work. Mr. and Mrs. Deming were going in the 
light wagon, and had a hamper of good things 
packed for the feast in the middle of the day. 
The girls met in front of the home of the chair- 
man, on the outskirts of town. They were 
dressed in patriotic fashion, their skirts being 
white, waists blue, and sashes red. On their 
heads they wore little white caps, each with the 
name of her State on a band which encircled 
her cap. "Uncle Sam” rode ahead, and then 
came a float, in which was seated the "Goddess 
of Liberty,” with four attendants, who were lit- 
tle girls, dressed as were the others in the colors 
of the flag. Flags and streamers were very 
much in evidence, and the horses were almost 
out of sight, with their trappings of red, white 
and blue. The thirteen states made a fine show- 
ing, following on their white horses. Then 
came the other states on dark horses, while the 
rear was made up of boys who said they were 
the territories. In front of the court house, the 


48 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


carriage containing the speaker of the day, and 
other celebrities, fell into line, and the proces- 
sion went to a grove near town, where a stand 
had been erected for the exercises, and where a 
beef had been barbecued in true Kentucky style 
for the delectation of the hungry hundreds, 
after the speechmaking was over. 

After the various “States” were introduced 
to the orator, and had passed in review before 
the guests, the exercises began with a patriotic 
selection by the band, and then followed the 
speeches, until time for dinner. The Demings 
had a most enjoyable time. They found many 
friends present from Elm Creek, and Round 
Up, and as they were acquainted with many of 
the Medicine Lodge people they were kept busy 
greeting old friends. It was not dark when 
they arrived at home, and the parents felt am- 
ply repaid, when Eva expressed to them how 
happy she had been all day. 

As the summer drew to a close, Eva’s parents 
discussed the advisability of sending her to a 
boarding school, for there she would have ad- 
vantages which she could never have in the 
prairie school. She was well read, and was not 
far behind more favored girls in education, 
even if she had led a somewhat Nomadic life. 
She was a fine type of a happy, healthy western 


49 


A "ROUND UP." 

girl, was a fearless horsewoman, and many a 
time had helped her father herd the cattle. He 
complimented her one day by saying that "she 
was as good at a ’round-up’ as a man;” yet 
withal she was gentle, and low voiced, and 
could sing like a lark. 

Like all mothers, Mrs. Deming felt dread- 
fully at parting with her darling, when the time 
came for her to go, but she knew it was for the 
best, and then there was vacation to look for- 
ward to. 

With the household duties, and the many let- 
ters from Eva, and the answers, and the little 
things which do not show appreciably, but 
which are so essential in the detail of house- 
keeping, the time went by, and vacation days 
drew near. When these were really come, there 
was joy not only in Eva’s home, but in those of 
Herbert and Horace. 

It became the custom for the two friends to 
meet at the home of Eva, as soon as the shad- 
ows of evening began to fall, and then there 
was music until the hour of parting. Mrs. 
Deming had a fine alto voice, Eva sang so- 
prano, and accompanied herself on the guitar, 
while Horace sang tenor, and Herbert added 
his deep bass tones. A favorite song and one 
that could be heard any evening, was the cow- 


50 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


boy s song, “The Lost Trail,” sung to the tune 
of “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean:” 

“Last night as I lay on the prairie, 

Looking up at the stars in the sky, 

I wondered if ever a ‘cowboy,’ 

Would drift to that ‘sweet bye-and-bye.’ ” 

“The road to that bright mystic region 
Is narrow and dim so they say, 

Bftt the one that leads down to perdition 
Is ‘posted’ and ‘blazed’ all the way.” 

“I wonder whose fault that so many 
Will be lost at that great final ‘sale,’ 

When they might have been rich and had plenty, 
Had they known of this dim narrow ‘trail.’ ” 

They say there will be a grand ‘round-up,’ 

Where ‘cowboys’ like others will stand, 

To be caught by the riders of judgment, 

Who are ‘posted’ and know every ‘brand.’ ” 


A friend who heard these voices sing the 
touching words, added another verse, and the 
refrain : 


“The trail may be dim, but if ‘branded’ 

Like us, the stars seemed to reply, 

“In the judgment you’re sure to be ‘corralled’ 
In the fields of the sweet ‘bye-and-bye.’ ” 


5i 


A "ROUND UP." 

“Turn back, turn back, 

O, turn back, my boy unto me, to me; 

Turn back, turn back, 

O, turn back my boy unto me.” 

Another friend of Eva's childhood often 
joined the others of an evening. Philip Lee had 
not had the school advantages of the others, but 
was working hard on the farm, and was a well- 
to-do young man. He openly expressed his ad- 
miration for Eva, much to the annoyance of her 
parents, and they, therefore, did not encourage 
his visits; but that did not hinder him from 
coming. Eva was gentle and sweet to all, in a 
charming way all her own, showing no prefer- 
ence. 

One evening while Horace was singing, and 
Mrs. Deming was playing his accompani- 
ment, Herbert asked Eva to take a horse-back 
ride with him the next day to Medicine Lodge. 
As she had often taken the trip, and thought 
nothing of the canter that distance, she readily 
consented. 

The day was fine, and only a gentle breeze 
warmed by the rays of the sun, fanned their 
cheeks as they sped over the fine road which 
nature had macadamized for the children of the 
plains. Here and there were canyons to skirt, 
or there would be a sand creek to cross, for this 


52 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


county abounds in these freaks, there being no 
less than fifteen hundred within her borders. 

Possibly, in the early days of the world, these 
were rushing, swirling streams with a rich 
growth of verdure fringing their banks, but by 
some mysterious process known only to nature, 
their waters had been withdrawn, and the only 
semblance to a stream which was left, was the 
outline, with the bed in which reposed the 
brightest of yellow sand. 

Two or three streams with running water 
were crossed, and it was refreshing to see them 
in a land where water was such a rarity. The 
few stunted elms which grew upon their banks 
were really a delight to the eye and were appre- 
ciated to their full extent. 

These were entertaining sights to Eva, but 
with Herbert there seemed to be a thoughtful- 
ness and seriousness, which even Eva’s gay 
banter could not dispel. Finally it found ex- 
pression in an impassioned declaration of his 
love for Eva, a declaration which startled her 
beyond measure, for as she said, it was some- 
thing which had never entered her thoughts, 
as having no brother, she had always looked 
upon him as taking the place of one. 

He said, “Eva, I am no child to be turned 
aside lightly from the purpose of my very life, 


A “ROUND UP." 


53 


and if you have not thought of this matter, I 
will leave it with you for the present, earnestly 
entreating you to give it serious consideration, 
and to look upon me as your lover. As you say 
you love no one, and like me as well as you do 
any one, I shall look forward to gaining your 
love by a life of devotion. Only promise me 
that you will think seriously of what I have 
told you this morning, and that you will try to 
love me, if only half as well as I love you. If 
you do this, I shall, in a measure, be satisfied, 
and shall return to my work buoyed by the 
prospects of the happiness the future has in 
store for me." 

“Herbert, I am sorry you have spoken 
this way, for I see that it makes a great 
difference to you, and I regret that I cannot 
answer as you wish, for I admire your noble 
manhood and I take pride in the progress you 
are making, but I have never felt my heart 
thrill at your approach, nor do I feel any 
warmer sentiment for you than that of earnest 
friendship. Indeed if there were any deeper 
sentiment, I am sure I could not answer you 
in this dispassionate manner. I tell you frank- 
ly, that my heart has never felt for any one, any 
other sentiment than that of friendship. If 
there is such a tumultuous fluttering of the 


54 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


heart at the approach of the one who is above 
all others, as I have read in the books of the 
authors who have pictured love and lovers, I 
know nothing of it, and I do not think I am 
constituted to feel any such way. I do not 
want to pain you, Herbert, only to be frank 
with you. I trust this will not interfere with 
our friendship/’ 

“Never, Eva, my dearest friend, but I shall 
look upon you as mine, until you tell me I am 
supplanted by another.” 

“Herbert, you must not talk that way, for I 
have given you no encouragement to do so, all 
I said was that I liked no one better than you.” 

“And that is enough for me to build my 
hopes upon, for the present, and I shall trust 
for the future to reward my devotion !” 

“You will make me miserable, Herbert, if 
you misinterpret my words that way.” 

“I am satisfied, Eva, as I told you, for the 
present, and I thank you for your company on 
this trip, and hope to soon have the pleasure of 
another ride with you. I see your mother 
standing in the door, and I am sure she is 
thinking it time you were home. Let me say 
this once, good-bye, ‘dear,’ ” said Herbert as 
they drew near the house, and before Eva could 
look her disapproval, he had bowed to Mrs. 


55 


A “ROUND UP.” 

Deming and was gone. Eva felt sad, but knew 
she must not show it, so turned to her mother 
and told how pleasant had been the ride, how 
fine the roads were, and how she had enjoyed 
the trip, all of which was true, although there 
might have been a mental reservation. 

Herbert sat his horse as though he were a 
trooper on dress parade, but his mind was not 
in accord with his appearance, by any means. 
Before he was out of sight of the house he was 
mentally thrashing himself for his precipitancy. 
“I should have waited until I was sure she was 
interested in me — but how is a fellow to know 
— girls are such a queer combination. 

“Oh, dear, I wish she had been more sure of 
her feelings — but I suppose I have encourage- 
ment enough. At any rate there is no other 
fellow before me, for she said that right out. 

“Yes, after all I am glad I spoke, and now 
Til be all attention, and do my best to win her. 

“I suppose those other fellows will be on 
hand tonight, but so will I,” and with this re- 
solve he was at the stable door, and taking off 
the saddle, sent the horse into his stall. 

In the house his mother and sister were busy 
w T ith their work, and he said, “Bessie, I’ll take 
you over to see Eva this evening, if you wish to 
go.” His sister did not betray her surprise at 


56 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


this unusual invitation, but told him she would 
be delighted to accompany him. In that way he 
thought he would get rid of at least one of the 
young men whom he was sure to find at Dem- 
ings, for his sister could entertain him, and he 
hoped that the other one would find the com- 
pany of Mr. or Mrs. Deming desirable, and thus 
leave Eva for him. Alas for earthly hopes! 
How could he know that the fates, aided by 
Eva herself, could be so unkind to a lover, 
when from time immemorial the theme of poets 
has been that “All the world loves a lover.” 

It was even as he thought, regarding the 
number there, with one or two additions. A 
neighbor, an old man of many peculiarities, 
with a limited education, but much good sense, 
whom everybody called Uncle Philander, had 
come over early in the evening, on his little 
Mexican pony, and seeming particularly lonely, 
Mrs. Deming had persuaded him to spend the 
evening, promising him that he should hear 
some of the old-fashioned songs, of which he 
was specially fond. Phil Lee was there as a mat- 
ter of course, and hung over Eva the entire ev- 
ening, and so disgusted Herbert with his atten- 
tions, that he left early, much to Bessie’s regret, 
for she was fond of singing, and they were 
singing songs which she knew, and which 


A “ROUND UP/' 


57 


suited her voice. She remonstrated with Her- 
bert, but he said he was tired, and they would 
go again some time. So with that she had to 
be content. 

The songs seemed to take a lighter turn after 
Herbert and his sister left, and one followed 
another until it was eleven o’clock when Uncle 
Philander arose to go, saying it was the best 
time he had had, since he came to Kansas. They 
urged him to come soon again, promising him 
just as good a time, and he said they might look 
tor him soon. Mrs. Deming staid up until the 
last guest, who was Phil Lee, left, and then 
with, “Good night, my belle of the prairie,” 
she laughingly kissed Eva at the door of her 
room. Eva smiled back with a shake of the 
head, but when her door was shut, she sank 
into a chair, and her face saddened as pictures 
came before her, and took shape whichever way 
she turned her eyes. The room seemed to be 
full of faces, so many in number, but only three 
styles. Phil Lee’s was the most persistent. 
Stolid, plain, but true as steel. He would make 
a good husband for some girl, but Eva shud- 
dered — “not for me, oh, not for me.” Two 
other faces which were multiplied until they 
were lost in the shadows. They, too, were 
persistent, and she could not get away from 


5 « 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


them — Horace’s and Herbert’s, but the voice 
she heard — was Herbert’s, and murmuring, “I 
know he is faithful and true,” she arose and 
began her preparation for sleep, but even in her 
dreams she heard the liquid notes of that clear 
tenor, which blended so well with hers. Ah, 
me, how little we know the depths of the human 
heart — the man’s heart, the girl’s heart. 

After that, although there were many meet- 
ings in the evening at Eva’s home, she never 
allowed Herbert an opportunity to renew the 
conversation of the day of the ride to Medicine 
Lodge. 

When the pleasant vacation came to a close, 
the friends separated, Herbert going back to 
finish his medical studies, Eva to study hard at 
her school, for this was to be her last year, and 
Horace to plod on with his law studies. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A NATION IN A DAY. 

“I know as my life grows older 
And mine eyes have clearer sight, 

That under each rank wrong, somewhere 
There lies the root of right ; 

That each sorrow has its purpose, 

By the sorrowing oft unguessed, 

But as sure as the sun brings morning, 

Whatever is, is best.” 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

In due time Horace passed a successful ex- 
amination, and was admitted to the bar. 

It had been definitely settled that lands in the 
Indian Territory would be thrown open, and 
Horace was preparing to go in and get a claim. 
The winter of 1889 had passed, and when the 
young spring was clothed in her brightest garb, 
there was a movement all over the southern 
portion of Kansas, and April had hardly as- 
serted her sway, when the clans began to gather 
on the border of the new territory — Oklahoma. 


bo 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


The prophecy that a “Nation should be born 
in a day” was almost fulfilled when this land 
was opened for settlement. 

The portion at this time opened contained an 
area of thirty-nine thousand square miles, with 
an average width of four hundred and seventy 
miles, and an average length of two hundred 
and ten miles, being larger than the whole of 
the State of New York or the Virginias. 

On the fair day when this was thrown open 
for whoever chose to take a risk, teams of all 
discriptions had for hours been pouring over 
the prairie from the Cherokee strip, and among 
them could be seen the schooner drawn by two 
horses, or another drawn by six mules, or a 
straggling after hundreds of the same 
sort. There were spanking teams of real es- 
tate men holding their own with the shabby 
turnout filled with provisions and bedding of 
the would-be homesteader. Men and women 
on horseback, urged their jaded steeds towards 
the border of the land of promise. There was 
a mad mob of both sexes on foot, tired, faint 
and worn, but with heart enough left to keep 
up the race, which was even then just begun. 

Indians and hunters who had been over the 
land had brought back wonderful tales of the 


A NATION IN A DAY. 


6l 


fertility of the soil, had told how it abounded 
in limpid streams, and that the lush grass would 
afford pasture the year round for as many cat- 
tle as a man might care to own. All these things 
had fired many a breast with the desire to set 
up their altars and their homes in this favored 
land. So here they were, some with smiling 
faces as they thought of the future, some with 
determination written in every line, but all 
with one purpose as they pressed on, to be in 
time to make the great rush when the signal 
shot was fired. Who, that witnessed it, will 
ever forget the mad rush of that day ! 

Not one seemed to think of disappointment 
or failure, as the sun rode on towards the zenith 
of its glory, but when he went down and 
darkness settled over the earth, there were 
many sad hearts, and alas, many blighted hopes. 

It was a sightly land surely, but aching 
hearts did not see any beauty in it after their 
disappointment came. In all its length and 
breadth there is not a mountain range, and 
there are no forests; true, there are trees, but 
they do not stand thick, and stretch afar, as 
they do in northern states, and some eyes long- 
ed for a sight of leafy boughs before they had 
closed many nights in slumber in their new 
home. 


62 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


On the border this opening day, trains wait- 
ed, alive inside and out, with anxious ones, who 
were to be dropped when a halt was made and 
were to proceed on foot until they came to a 
place where they could drive their stake of own- 
ership. 

They shot across the border when at last the 
signal was heard, and fairly flew into this land 
so fair. After a few miles, as they slowed up, 
the men began to drop from the sides, and the 
platforms, and struck blindly out, trusting to 
luck for a good claim. 

One man threw his valise to the ground and 
as it burst open in its fall, he jumped after it, 
and sat down where it fell, too disgusted prob- 
ably, to move. It turned out to be a happy 
chance which treated him so badly in the be- 
ginning, for there a city was laid out, and his 
was one of the principal lots. Another man 
had brought a black bottle along, and when the 
trained dropped him off, he was almost too far 
gone to move, but some one aroused him 
enough to make him understand that he must 
drive a stake if he wanted a lot, so the poor 
fellow did as he was told, for it was where a 
city was to be, and he and his friends wanted 
a city lot. After that was done he laid down 
to rest his weary frame. When night came on. 


A NATION IN A DAY. 


63 


every lot had been staked off, and there were 
hundreds of persons walking around who had 
been unfortunate enough to be left out. 

Among this class, were two unscrupulous 
men, who came up to the sleeping man and his 
bottle, and seeing the latter, judged the condi- 
tion of its companion. They retreated a little 
way for consultation, then came back bringing 
with them their baggage, which consisted 
among other things of a tent. Noiselessly they 
pitched this over the sleeper, made it fast, put 
down their other belongings, then one of them 
lay down while the other proceeded to arouse 
the sleeper, who was told that he had wandered 
into the wrong tent, and had better get out at 
once, before any mischief was done. The poor 
dazed fellow rubbed his eyes, looked around at 
the strangers and the tent, and with a muttered 
apology walked off his own possession, and was 
thenceforward homeless. Many an unfortu- 
nate found his stakes driven in the middle of a 
street, and so was forced to leave. 

It was a big lottery and many drew rich 
prizes, but many more left the new land, shak- 
ing the dust from their feet, with bitterness in 
their souls cursing the day when they were fool 
enough to give up a certainty for hope. 


6 4 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


Horace Hodge had been among the waiting 
ones, and as soon as noon came, and the signal 
shot was fired, he gave the word to his fleet 
horse, and away he flew almost like the wind, 
soon outdistancing some of those who had 
equally as good a start. On went the well- 
trained steed, never faltering, until Horace saw 
water and woodland; then he gave the word, 
the horse stopped, and quick as a flash Horace 
was off, had driven his stake, tied a card with 
his name on it, and then, with the small spade 
with which he had provided himself, began to 
turn over some of the sod. He had carried, 
as a saddle blanket, a light tent, and tied to his 
saddle was some lunch. His father was on the 
border with provisions and other necessities in 
the wagon, and was to follow with them as 
soon as possible after knowing the location of 
Horace. 

In a few days this was made known to him. 
and soon thereafter Horace’s tent took on a 
home-like appearance. Horace went to work, 
immediately after registering, to improve his 
place. He had been fortunate in its selection, 
for it was near what was soon a flourishing 
city. For awhile he was kept busy fighting 
“claim jumpers,” but he came off victorious. 


A NATION IN A DAY. 


65 


In looking around to see who his neighbors 
were, he found that not far away was Phillip 
Lee. He, however, had not been so fortunate 
in his selection as Horace, for he was farther 
from the town. Without delay Horace began 
to practice law, in the nearby town. He opened 
an office, and rode in each morning, while a 
hired man looked after the farm, and already 
he had a lucrative practice. He was gentle- 
manly, fine looking and well bred, and it is no 
wonder that he soon became a social favorite. 

In speaking of the people and the times, his 
mother hinted that perhaps someone had made 
an impression upon his heart, but he assured 
her that his heart was as yet untouched. 


CHAPTER VII. 

WHEN LOVE’S A FIELD. 

“I know there are no errors 
In the great eternal plan, 

And all things work together 
For the final good of man. 

And I know, when my soul speeds onward, 

In its grand eternal quest, 

I shall say as I look back earthward, 

Whatever is, is best.” 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

One night there was a church social, and, as 
usual, Horace had had numerous invitations. 
He was detained at his office later than usual, 
but finally got away, and went to the hall. One 
of the first to greet him was Miss Worthing- 
ton. Already the gossips had gotten in some 
good work, and one was heard to say that 
“Miss Worthington was cut out for Mr. 
Hodge, for they were such a stately looking 
pair.” But Horace seemed to be encased in an 


WHEN LOVE'S A FIELD. 


67 


armor of steel as far as any one’s making an 
impression upon him was concerned. 

Miss Worthington said, “Mr. Hodge, I want 
to introduce you to a school friend of mine, 
who is visiting me at present. She is a Kansan, 
and is a charming girl.” Horace accompanied 
her across the room, where stood a tall young 
lady, seemingly the center of attraction, for she 
was surrounded by young folks ; her back was 
towards them, so Horace could not tell what 
manner of person she was, by her looks. 

In a moment Miss Worthington was by her 
side, and asked to have her excused. There was 
an outcry from the young people at this, but the 
lady turned, and “Miss Deming, let me intro- 
duce Mr. Hodge,” was what Miss Worthington 
said, “Why, Horace !” “Miss Eva, you here !” 
were the surprised exclamations of the other 
two, while Miss Worthington, whose breath 
had almost been taken away by the shock, said, 
“I did not know you were acquainted, and 
thought I had a delightful treat in store for 
each of you.” 

In the group which Eva had left was one 
who, like Horace, had been invited to the social , 
he looked at Horace with a lowering brow, and 
when his companions rallied him on his chang- 


68 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


ed behavior and looks, he was, indeed, ill at 
ease, and soon Phillip Lee left the house. 

Thenceforth Horace claimed Eva’s attention, 
much to the chagrin of some of the young men ; 
but of this he was totally oblivious as they 
chatted about old times and the homes in Kan- 
sas. The subject seemed not to have been fin- 
ished when the time came for departure, for he 
accompanied her to Miss Worthington’s, and 
even then seemed loath to say “Good-night.” 
Miss Worthington rallied Eva upon Horace’s 
seeming infatuation, but Eva said, “Indeed you 
are mistaken, if you think he cares for me, ex- 
cept as an early friend, and I am sure that I 
do not like him any better than I do some others 
of my acquaintance.” 

“I do not see how you could give him sc 
much time then,” the friend replied. 

“Oh, Ella, you know you prefer to converse 
with those of kindred thought with yourself; 
and besides, I had not seen Horace for a whole 
year, and that makes some difference.” 

“Yes, Eva, I know it does; and I am sure T 
do not blame you, for I am always delighted to 
talk with Mr. Hodge, he is so cultured and 
uses such elegant language; then he has such 
fine, expressive eyes, and such beautiful white 


WHEN LOVE S A FIELD. 69 

teeth. He has been coming here so often lately 
that I think I am quite spoiled/’ 

'‘Ella, dear, I hope it means something, for it 
would gratify me very much.” "How about you 
and Phillip Lee, Eva?” 

"Now, as that is a forbidden subject, I think 
the best thing for us to do is to go to sleep,” 
replied Eva, so good-nights were said and the 
light put out. 

After the evening of the social Horace called 
a number of times at Miss Worthington’s, but 
it seemed that Phil Lee was his evil genius, for 
he was always there ahead of him, so Horace 
made his calls short. He had been boasting that 
he was heart whole, but now he suddenly 
awakened to the fact that he was not, and had 
not been for some time. This he acknowledged 
to himself in his secret communings. He had 
not realized it until it seemed that another cov- 
eted the prize and was eagerly striving for it. 
Then fear took possession of him, and he re- 
solved to bend all his energies to the attainment 
of what he so much desired. 

He found out that Eva was going home soon, 
so that fact settled his determination to take a 
vacation. He arranged his business so that he 
could leave, and told his friends he was going 
to take a little trip, as he thought he needed the 


?o 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


change. As usual, Philip Lee was with Eva 
when she arrived at the station. Miss Worth- 
ington had also accompanied her, and when the 
baggage had been attended to the whistle of 
the approaching train was heard, and Eva re- 
minded her friend of her promise to visit her. 
said good-bye, and turned to give her hand in 
good-bye to Phillip, who only took it to assist 
her up the steps, and then followed her into the 
car. 

He lingered near, until the conductor called 
“All aboard !” and then, with a gentle pressure 
of the hand, said, “Good-bye for the present” 
and sprang off just as the train got under way. 
After they had been traveling for about half 
an hour, Eva glanced up, as some one stopped 
at her seat, and was amazed to find it was 
Horace. She made room for him, and from 
that time the journey was not tedious for at 
least one passenger. 

Horace was a good talker, and Eva was a fine 
listener, so the time passed pleasantly until they 
arrived at their station. Mr. Deming was there 
to meet his daughter. He had brought the 
spring wagon, as he had some trading to do, 
and as there was room enough, and Horace had 
not sent word to his father that he was coming. 
Mr. Deming invited the young man to ride 


WHEN LOVE'S A FIELD. 7 1 

with him. The offer was promptly accepted, 
and when the baggage was secured the horses 
started off at a lively gait. The weather was 
delightful, the roads in splendid condition, and 
the ride proved most exhilarating. Mrs. Dem- 
ing folded Eva in a warm, motherly embrace 
when she descended from the wagon, and she 
was herself almost smothered with kisses. 
******** 

A pleasant autumn passed, winter had come, 
and still the weather was mild. A joyous 
Christmas was spent, and a few friends who 
had been with Eva during the day had arranged 
to watch the old year out, and they were 
anxiously looking forward to the time and hop- 
ing that the weather would continue good ; but 
in that climate there is no telling one hour what 
the next may bring forth in the way of weather. 

Herbert Morea and Horace Hodge were 
both at home for the holidays, and had been in- 
vited to meet the other young people at Eva’s 
on New Year’s Eve. Horace had made many 
visits to Eva’s, but each time some one was be- 
fore him. Eva was quite a belle, without hav- 
ing one trait of the coquette in her make-up. 
Poor Horace was in a state of unrest, for he 
had no idea how Eva felt towards himself, and 
as yet there had been no opportunity to find out, 


72 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


for he could never find her alone. Generally 
Herbert Morea was there, and then they would 
sing together, so that there was little time for 
conversation, and what there was Eva usually 
divided equally with the visitors. Eva herself 
did not seem to know which of the friends she 
preferred, and in conversation with her mother- 
said : “Indeed, mama, since you ask which of 
the young men whom I know I prefer, I must 
be frank and tell you that I do not care for Phil 
Lee at all ; but of course I must treat him as I 
do the others. Herbert and Horace almost 
seem like brothers to me, and if I seem to pre- 
fer Herbert, it is because his voice blends so 
well with mine. But, mother mine, I think I 
divine your motive in putting that question, 
and I want to assure you now, that you need 
not worry, for my heart is all my own, and I 
am going to remain your own little girl indefi- 
nitely, ” and there the conversation ended. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

A KANSAS BLIZZARD. 

“There is nothing to fear in the coming year 
though the smile be faint on its face. 

Better than hope is a faith that will grope 
In the dark for the hidden grace : 

Patient to suffer or brave to do, 

What can we have to fear? 

Old years are His, and His the new — 

He can make it a glad New Year.” 

New Year’s Eve opened pleasantly; the 
morning was mild, and in the middle of the day 
fires were hardly needed. Late in the afternoon 
there was a change; the sky became threaten- 
ing and towards night betokened a storm. Just 
as some of the young people drove up, there was 
a fierce flash of lightning, and an ominous roll 
of thunder, which warned them that the storm 
was near at hand. Soon rain began to fall, and 
the weather rapidly grew colder, as it often 
does in Southern Kansas. About nine o’clock 


74 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


sleet fell and the wind veered, until a furious 
gale was blowing. At midnight a blinding 
snow storm was upon them, and a regular Kan- 
sas blizzard had things its own way. 

The young people were safely housed, were 
warm and comfortable and with games and 
music the hours wore away and they did not 
realize that devastation and death stalked 
abroad. 

At midnight, Mrs. Deming invited her guests 
to the dining room where hot coffee and de- 
licious cake awaited the keen appetites. In the 
small hours slumber was sought, but the men 
were so worried about the blizzard, and the re- 
sulting loss to their herds that it is safe to say 
they did not sleep much. Horace had another 
reason. He, too, thought of his father’s herd, 
perhaps perishing in the bitter storm, but he 
caught a glimpse of Herbert’s adoring eyes as 
he bade Eva good night, and it caused the 
spirit of unrest to enter his soul, and other 
things had to give place to it, while he, with 
sleepless eyes, earnestly wished for morning. 
He vowed to his disturbed soul that he would 
put his love to the test, as he could not longer 
stand the uncertainty. 

All night the storm raged. Early in the 
morning the men started out to look after their 


A KANSAS BLIZZARD. 


75 


unsheltered cattle; the weather was still disa- 
greeable, for the wind had not abated, and the 
snow was blowing so that it was almost equal 
to a regular snow storm. 

Horace Hodge had not far to go to reach 
his home. He found all well, but quite uneasy 
about the cattle, and Mr. Hodge was just about 
to go to look for them Horace would not hear 
to anything of the kind. The hired man was 
away, so he saddled his pony and set out alone. 
About noon Mr. Hodge went to Mr. Deming’s 
and asked if his son were there. He said that 
he had not returned, and he thought that pos - 
sibly he had stopped on the way at Mr. Dem- 
ing’s. Some of the cattle had returned, but he 
thought that many had perished in the awful 
storm. When the old gentleman learned that 
his son was not at the neighbor’s his anxiety 
was great, and there was no more thought for 
the cattle. All agreed that nothing less than an 
accident could have kept him, when he knew 
that his parents would worry until his return. 

Mr. Deming said : “If you will wait until I 
can saddle my horse, I will go with you to 
search for him.” So the two set out. There was 
anxiety in both homes, but the roads were in 
such a condition that women could not get very 
far away. As the two men slowly proceeded they 


yt A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

found that all tracks had been obliterated by the 
drifting snow. They made their way towards 
a deep canyon on Mr. Hodge’s place, in which 
the cattle often found shelter in stormy weather. 
Mr. Deming had his glass along and constant- 
ly scanned the surface of the prairie. He also 
carefully looked up and down the canyon. Fi- 
nally he saw what he thought was a horse, and 
they made their way to it. It was Horace’s 
pony, but nowhere could they discover his rider., 
A mound of snow just a little way below them 
attracted Mr. Deming’s attention, and making 
his way to it he began kicking it aside, when to 
his joy he found that some one was under it. 
Quickly now he worked, and soon the object of 
their search was revealed, but apparently life- 
less. Mr. Deming was very strong, and, with 
the help of the almost frantic father, got Horace 
on the horse, where he held him securely, and 
then turning their heads towards home began 
their sad trip. The drifted and blowing snow 
made it very hard for the horses and discour- 
aging for the men. They were almost exhaus- 
ted when the welcome sight of smoke from 
Mrs. Hodge’s chimney greeted them. When 
they arrived at the house Horace was quickly 
put to bed, and bottles of hot water put around 
him. He was vigorously rubbed, and every- 


A KANSAS BLIZZARD. 


77 


thing that could be thought of done to resusci- 
tate him. Finally their efforts were rewarded; 
his eyelids quivered, opened, then closed ; warm 
drinks were given him and soon he revived. It 
was found that his ankle was badly hurt, but no 
bones seemed to be broken. 

When Horace was sufficiently restored to 
talk, he said : “I was floundering through the 
drifts looking for the cattle, and had just dis- 
covered a bunch in the canyon, when, in trying 
to reach them to turn them homeward, the 
horse lost his footing right on the edge, and 
over we went, the horse falling on my ankle. 
The pain was excruciating, and then I must 
have lost consciousness.” After that the horse 
righted himself, of course, but would not leave 
his master, over whom the wind in a little 
while blew a great drift of snow, and who 
would have perished, as did others in that ter- 
rible storm, if he had not been so soon discov- 
ered. 

It was several days before the roads were 
sufficiently clear for teams to travel with any 
degree of comfort. 

When at last Mr. Deming went to the post- 
office, he found among his mail the county 
paper, and upon opening it, an account of the 
recent storm was given, and the terrible devas- 


78 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


tation wrought throughout the county was in- 
deed unparalleled in its history. Among the 
items was one which told of the loss of two 
children of a neighbor, a young man and a 
daughter just entering young womanhood. 
They, with a younger brother had gone to a 
near by schoolhouse, where there was a gath- 
ering of young people, who were to watch the 
old year out. After midnight, thinking their 
father would worry about them they started 
for home in spite of many protests. 

They lived nearer than any others, and so 
had walked, but had taken the precaution to 
bring a lantern. It was less than a half mile 
to their barn gate, which was the nearest en- 
trance from the schoolhouse. Bidding the 
friends good-bye, they started, but the furious- 
ly blowing gale soon put the light out, and 
they were by that time too bewildered to know- 
in which direction the schoolhouse was. They 
could only guess they were on the road towards 
home, for the trackless prairie was pitiless in 
its robe of swirling, glittering snow and gave 
no hint of the way. On and on they ploughed, 
until exhaustion was tugging hard at them, and 
the little one lagged behind. The elder brother 
was urged by the sister to push on, and get 
home, and a lantern and come back for them. 


A KANSAS BLIZZARD. 


79 


He knew that to linger meant death, so trying 
to be brave, he struggled on, only to fall and be 
covered with a winding sheet out of nature’s 
laboratory. When morning came, and the chil- 
dren did not return, the father’s anxiety bor- 
dered upon madness, and he went in search of 
them. The nearest neighbor told of their leav- 
ing, in spite of all entreaties, and that was the 
last heard of them. 

Searching parties were organized, and under 
a little hillock of snow, right at his father’s 
gate the cold and lifeless body of the son was 
found. A day later, a melted spot in the snow 
some distance off, gave the party a clew which 
they followed up, only to find another lifeless 
body, and one with life just flickering. The 
faithful sister, when she saw that it was impos- 
sible to go farther, had compelled the little boy 
to lie down, and then with heroic devotion had 
thrown her body over his, to keep him warm. 
The melted spot in the snow was caused by his 
breath. 

Another item disclosed the fact that a belated 
mail carrier had had both feet frozen, to such 
an extent that amputation was necessary. 

There were harrowing tales of the suffering 
among cattle, for want of water and food, as 
well as with the exposure, and thousands had 


8o 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


died on the prairies and in the canyons. After 
the storm the weather was mild again, and soon 
there was no trace of the disturbance. 

Horace was laid up for some time. His 
ankle was not only severely wrenched, but his 
nervous system had received a shock. He was 
able to see his friends in a day or two, and 
when he was made comfortable on a couch in 
the sitting room, there were often two or three 
to call upon him at once. Phil Lee and Herbert 
were both at home, and helped him to while 
away many a tedious hour — at least they hoped 
so. The time of the day that he looked for- 
ward to, however, was when Eva came. He 
found that she had a very fine reading voice, 
and when she offered to read to him, he gladly 
accepted, and told her his choice was Whittier. 
She, too, was fond of the gentle Quaker poet 
and had studied him so well, that she could 
feelingly render his most soulful poems. 

She had read to him “The River Path,” and 
“The Eternal Goodness” and both discussed the 
beautiful language, and Horace murmured. 
“What could be finer than this verse : 

‘I know not where His islands lift 
Their fronded palms in air ; 

I only know I cannot drift 
Beyond His love and care.’ 


A KANSAS BLIZZARD. 


81 


“It is grand for poor weak mortals to feel 
such sentiments, and to know they are true.” 

Eva, would you mind reading ‘Snow 
Bound ?’ It will take some time, but I should 
be delighted to have it rendered by you, even 
in instalments.” 

She assured him that it would give her much 
pleasure, and the sly fellow chuckled to himself 
over the successful outcome of his ruse. He 
wanted to watch the play of the expression on 
her face, as much as to hear the music of her 
voice that he asked it, but above all it was to 
have her with him. He felt that it would be 
contemptible to take advantage of her kind- 
ness, with his selfishness, so did not speak the 
words which often trembled on his tongue, at 
the least provocation, the clasp of her hand in 
good-bye, the turn of her head while reading, 
the lighting up of the eye, when discussing one 
of the stirring verses. All, all, set his nerves 
to tingling, and his pulses to beating, but he 
compelled his head to hold his heart in check. 
The days sped all too rapidly, and finally he 
was compelled to stop playing the role of inva- 
lid, for there was no longer any excuse for his 
remaining away from his business.. 

The day before he left, he asked Eva if he 
might write to her, and she said, “Horace, you 


82 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


know that I have always said I would not 
write to any of you boys — ” that made him 
wince, but he said, “Eva, the conditions are 
different now, I am away from home, and 
mother has not time to do much writing, and I 
want to hear from everybody, and I want 
above all to hear from you, so do grant me this 
favour. You know I am very lonely after the 
shades of night fall and I am home from office.” 

“Very well, then, if it will relieve the loneli- 
ness any, I will write sometimes. ,, 

Compelled to be satisfied with the answer, 
obtained almost by guile, he bade a reluctant 
adieu to parents and friends and returned the 
next day to Oklahoma. 

He took up his work in the Sabbath School 
and the Young People’s Society with renewed 
energy, and as time went by he found that he 
could be useful in many ways — not only in the 
church, but outside, in advancing the church’s 
interests. 


CHAPTER IX. 

NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD SUBJECT. 

“Then, whatsoever wind doth blow, 

My heart is glad to have it so. 

And blow it east or blow it west, 

The wind that blows— that wind is best.” 

— The Occident. 

In the early summer, without saying a word 
to even his closest business friends, Horace 
Hodge packed his grip and went away. Almost 
before the people had begun to wonder where 
he had gone he was back and busy at his work. 
Horace not only possessed a fine farm, but he 
had a lucrative law practice. Soon after his 
mysterious trip he began the erection of a mag- 
nificent dwelling. 

Gossips are never at a loss for the sweet mor- 
sel to roll under the tongue. The slightest 
move out of the ordinary is all that is needed. 

Horace’s flying visit to some mysterious 
place, the employment of workmen, and finally 


8 4 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


the rapidly advancing house, were food for 
more than one tea table conference. One story 
was that he had been to see Miss Worthington, 
who had been in Kansas City for three or four 
months — “aha, for what purpose, if not for 
buying wedding finery.” 

“No,” said another, “there are several young 
ladies near his home, and might he not have 
been attentive to one of them without the town 
being aware of it?” “Yes, that must be so, and 
the trip was to buy furniture, so that the house 
should all be ready when the time came for the 
wedding.” 

That was plausible, and two or three thought 
they would better keep their eyes open to find 
out who the lucky girl was. 

Almost all the eligible girls in the church, 
were questioned by the garrulous dames who 
had taken it upon themselves to find out how 
matters really were. 

When one of them suggested a girl in Kan- 
sas, there were many “Ohs’* and “Ahs,” but 
some agreed that it might be so, while others 
held out for Miss Worthington, and they were 
the ones who had wanted to marry her from the 
first, because “they were so evenly matched 
regarding height,” and were “such a stately 
pair.” 


new light on an old subject. 85 

But no word from Horace satisfied their itch- 
ing ears. 

While Horace was ill, Eva had it suddenly 
revealed to her, where she stood regarding the 
affairs of the heart. She found when the test- 
ing time came that there was a difference be- 
tween the friendship which she felt for Herbert 
Morea and that which she had for Horace. 

The sudden departure from his home in Ok- 
lahoma was for the purpose of hearing from 
Eva’s own lips the words which he had for so 
many months longed to hear, and which he had 
had no opportunity of asking for, except by 
taking advantage of her when she was so kind 
to him, and this he would not do. It did not take 
long to tell the “old, old story,” which is ever 
new to willing ears, and which in this case 
brought joy to the young man when it was re 
ceived by the one who held his heart, as he de- 
sired it should be. 

1 he evening was one of those white dreamy 
nights, when the full moon, has almost the 
power to make her rays strong enough for one 
to read by. The Demings had been invited b}' 
Mrs. Hodge to take tea with her family, and 
early in the afternoon, as was the custom in that 
section, they had walked over, and while Mr. 
Hodge and Mr. Deming strolled about the 


86 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


place, and the two mothers were busy with 
household affairs, Horace was left to entertain 
Eva, and soon they talked of his new home and 
the surroundings in that wonderful country. 

Horace had just arrived that morning, and 
Eva asked if his stay was to be a long one. “No, 
Eva, in any case it must be a short one, but I 
trust it will be the happiest one I have ever 
made?” Eva's great, lustrous eyes were look- 
ing a question into his, and he said, I have 
come to ask a momentous question, and on its 
answer hangs my fate.” 

Feeling that she must say something, she 
said, “Oh, Horace, is it so solemn as that?” 

“Yes, Eva, it is solemn, and yet the answer 
can be given by a girl, in a monosyllable — Oh. 
Eva, do you not know what I mean? — I love 
you, and I want your love in return. You must 
have guessed it many months ago. I have loved 
you even when I did not know what to call the 
feeling, but when I thought there was danger 
of losing you, then there was no longer any 
doubt, and I was aroused as never before. Your 
kindness to me when I was laid up, prevented 
me from speaking at that time, but now I have 
come to hear my fate from your lips. Again I 
I say I love you, and I ask you to be my wife — 
will you, my dearest one?” 


NEW LIGHT ON AN OLD SUBJECT. 87 

Eva was trembling so, that she could frame 
no words, and even her long lashes refused to 
lift themselves, so that Horace could read his 
answer in her eyes. 

When he took her hand, however, there was 
no resistance, but it was cold as ice, and he bent 
his head and said, “Shall I have the one word, 
Eva ?” and the whisper that came to him must 
have been what he longed to hear. 

When the bell rang for tea, and Horace was 
sure that the parents of both were in the dining 
room, he took Eva by the hand, and as he led 
her to her place by his side announced their be- 
trothal, and then smiled as all voiced their 
satisfaction. 

Horace walked home with Eva that moon- 
light night, and even the prosaic road seemed 
to be wrapped in a radiance which streamed 
from some unknown regions, where the pre- 
siding genius was prodigal with such beauteous 
mysteries. The call of the night birds even, 
seemed to be more musical than ever before. 
Away off on the level prairie, the bark of a 
coyote was heard, and presently there was an 
answering bark, and then a series of yelping 
calls, but tonight Horace was in such a state of 
exaltation that even these seemed freighted 
with new and sweeter notes. 


88 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


All nature seemed to be in harmony with his 
frame of mind, and it was indeed as if “all the 
world loves a lover.” 

It was late when he left, but he asked Eva 
to let him come in the morning as he had to take 
the after noon train for the territory. 

After his departure that night, Eva wrote to 
Herbert Morea and told him she had at last 
found her fate, and there was no doubt in her 
mind about it, and she hoped she would receive 
the hearty congratulations of her friend, whom 
she looked upon as a brother. 

When she dreamed that night, the voice was 
not heard, hut the face she saw, with lovelit 
eyes looking at her, was Horace’s, and the re- 
frain she heard was — “I love you, I love you.” 

We shall not linger over the “Good-byes” of 
the morrow, for they are the same with lovers 
in every clime and in all tongues. 


CHAPTER X. 

FULL OF SWEETEST SUNSHINE. 

“Loving hearts so truly mated 
Walk the flow’ry paths of May, 

Earth again contains an Eden, 

Pain and grief are far away.” 

— M. E. Leonhardt. 

After Horace’s departure, Eva began prepa- 
rations for the new life and home, for he urged 
a speedy marriage, saying, that there should be 
no delay, for they had each known the other 
since childhood, and now that their hearts beat 
in unison, there should be no further separa- 
tion. In every thing now, as of yore, Eva con 
suited that best friend of all girls — mother — 
and she said, “My daughter, you know that 
it is like tearing my heart strings to give you 
up, but this is the same that I did, and I cannot 
say nay, so I will do all that I can for you. I 
wish that Horace were not so insistant, but as 
long as he wishes a short engagement, I think 


90 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


you will do well to accede to his request. I am 
sure he must lead a lonely life, and of course 
you can make his house truly a home for him, 
so it is best that you should not delay longer 
than is necessary.” 

In all their plans Mrs. Hodge was consulted, 
and when the time came to fashion beautiful 
garments, it was she who always knew where 
to find something filmy or rare among laces to 
add to the attractiveness. 

Many fine things she had brought with her 
to her western home, and not having needed 
them, had put them aside. Now it gave her 
pleasure that one so dear to her could have the 
use of them. She always received a box from 
her sisters at Christmas, and among the many 
gifts, had been numberless trifles which she had 
never used, but which add to much to a young 
girl’s wardrobe. Dainty trifles there were, and 
she insisted that Eva should take them. 

Mrs. Deming and Eva went to Kansas City, 
and while there she looked up her friend whom 
the gossips had picked out for Horace, Miss 
Worthington, for she had written to Eva and 
given her address. 

Eva found her deep in a love affair of her 
very own. She had come here to visit, and had 
met her fate. Of that she felt no doubt, and she 


FULL OF SWEETEST SUNSHINE. 9 1 

said she was on the point of writing Eva to ask 
her to be her bridesmaid. Eva had sought her 
for the same purpose. Neither could serve the 
other, however, for the same reason, that each 
would be engrossed with her own wedding 
about that time. 

Miss Worthington was going home to be 
married, and would leave immediately for Kan- 
sas City where her husband was engaged in 
business. She congratulated Eva, and said, 
“I have been in Mr. Hodge's company many 
times, and I know what a fine specimen of man- 
hood he is, and I have known for some time 
that his heart was not his own. Ever since that 
visit you made me, I have seen the change in 
him, and he has never paid the slightest atten- 
tion to any girl, which she could take as an 
especial mark of favor. I consider him one of 
the noblest of men.” 

Eva listened to the complimentary words, 
and knew in her heart that they were true, yet 
she was glad to hear them over and over, as if 
she did not know it. 

Many of the nick-nacks which add to the at- 
tractiveness of a home, were purchased on this 
trip and shipped to Horace. Mr. Deming had 
told his wife to pick out as fine a piano as the 
city afforded, and ship that to the new home so 


92 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


that there should be no lack of music, for he 
knew his daughter's love for it. Many other 
things he also commissioned her to get, as he 
trusted her judgment, and things were so on 
the farm that he could not go with them. He 
was one of the quiet kind, but to his wife he ex- 
pressed the anguish, that the thought of parting 
with Eva brought him. She was entwined 
around every fibre of his being, and his love 
for her was intense. Yet to her he gave no 
sign. 

After a busy week in the city, they returned 
to their quiet home, and there were many con- 
ferences between Horace's mother and Eva's. 
Both were there when the many parcels were 
undone, and Mrs. Hodge entered into the plans 
as heartily as if Eva were her very own daugh- 
ter. 

Much to Horace's regret there was a compli- 
cated law suit on hand which dragged its weary 
length along until two days before the date 
fixed for the wedding. As soon as court closed, 
he drew a sigh of relief, and it was not long 
before he was at the station, waiting for the 
train which was to take him to all he loved. 

Eva’s wish had been for a quiet ceremony, 
with only the nearest neighbors present, and as 


FULL OF SWEETEST SUNSHINE. 93 

that was the desire of her mother also, it was 
so. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lee, “Uncle Philander,” two 
or three other neighbors and the most inter- 
ested two families were all who witnessed the 
marriage. 

The minister had come out from “the Lodge.” 
and. was to spend the night at Mr. Hodge’s. 
Eva was dressed in a clinging white gown, with 
a spray of delicate white blossoms in her glossy 
black hair, and looked rapurously happy, and 
certainly was as pretty a bride as ever stood be- 
fore a minister. “No fairer, sweeter girl, or 
bride, ever graced a “claim shanty,” was the 
verdict of “Uncle Philander,” and it was echoed 
by all present. 


CHAPTER XI. 

OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 

‘‘Kind hearts are more than coronets, 

And simple faith than Norman blood.” 

— T ennyson. 

There had been no wedding trip, for Eva 
said the journey to the new home would be an 
outing for her, and Horace was needed in his 
office. 

So this sensible pair went directly to the new 
house which Horace had furnished tastefully 
with Eva’s help. 

The morning after their arrival, as Horace 
was about to go to his office, Eva went out on 
the porch with him, and the two stood for a few 
moments looking around, while Horace named 
the different homesteads. Eva was dressed in 
a morning gown of rose pink, which suited so 
well her clear olive complexion. She was an 
enchanting object as she stood with the soft 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 


95 


wind toying with the stray locks which curled 
into a fringe about her face. 

She was so slender in build, although plump, 
that she looked taller than she really was, and 
it was only by comparing her height with 
others, that her natural height was found. Dark 
brown eyes, like a fawn's were fringed with 
thick, long, black lashes, while above them, the 
delicately penciled brows were beautifully 
arched. 

The oval face was framed in a wealth of 
glossy black hair, which curled in spite of the 
knot into which it was twisted at the back. It 
was brushed back from the face, but the waves 
remained, and the least loosening caused them 
to curl coquettishly on brow and temple. 

As she stood thus, she looked about to see 
what manner of country it might be. 

The prospect which met her enquiring eye, 
was a fair one, and she was gazing rapturously 
aL sky and field, when Horace said “Good-bye, 
sweetheart, for a few hours. Try not to feei 
lonely.” “Never fear, dear,” she answered 
“there are too many things to do and too much 
to look at. After I have a few draughts of this 
exhilarating air I shall go to work in earnest.” 

She waived him a farewell, and as he drove 
out of sight he thought she was the fairest 


g6 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


picture he had ever looked upon, and wished 
that there were an artist near to paint her as 
she stood, with that rosy glow about her. 

From her husband she turned again to the 
landscape. The homesteads were all laid out by 
the points of the compass, and the level road 
stretched away like a turn-pike. The fields 
were beautiful, the buildings dotting the claims 
were not so enchanting as the surroundings, 
but in many instances there were attractive 
houses, while all were more or less comfortable. 

Some of the claims had no buildings but a 
barn, and this was the temporary home of the 
farmer. The air was so pure and sweet that 
Eva was reminded of her Kansas home, and 
she caught her breath quick, as she thought of 
her mother, who had always been her chum and 
companion. 

A movement across the road attracted her at- 
tention, it was a young girl, surely she would 
have a companion in her. She wondered what 
she was like. Would she be congenial, — how 
old was she, and many other thoughts flitted 
through her mind, in less time than it takes to 
tell it. 

Another girl came out on the porch — they 
looked at Eva, and bowed. She must not be 
behind in manners, so she bowed, too. 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 


97 


Then the girls went in the house. This home 
was not directly opposite Eva’s, and yet it was 
such a little way beyond her home, that it was 
but a few steps from one to the other. It was 
a comfortable looking house, with a roomy 
porch across the front, and the whole appear- 
ance was that of refinement. 

Beyond Eva’s home there was a stream, and 
as she turned in that direction, graceful trees 
in their green foliage, rested the eye and caused 
her to say, I am sure I shall like my new home, 
more than I thought; it is pleasing to the eye, 
there are near neighbors, and if the signs do 
not fail, I am going to find them congenial. At 
any rate I shall do my part towards being 
friendly.” With another deep inspiration, she 
went into the house to commence on the thous- 
and one little things, which every new house- 
keeper has to fix to suit herself. 

Horace came home early, and after supper, 
just as the lights were necessary, the two girls 
whom Eva had seen in the morning, came over 
“just to get acquainted” as they said. Horace 
had already told Eva all that he had learned 
about the family. He had found them very 
neighborly, and he told her that they were cul- 
tured people, and from what he had seen of 
them, he was sure she would like them. 


98 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


So the first day began and ended pleasantly, 
and the new life was entered upon with a happy 
heart by both Eva and Horace. 

Eva’s opposite neighbors were named Cres- 
singere, the family consisting of the father, 
mother, two daughters and a son. 

Eva was charmed with the two girls whom 
she had met for only a few moments in her own 
parlor, however, but they seemed so sincere and 
unaffected that in that short space of time she 
seemed to read their character, and she was 
convinced that she should like them upon furth- 
er acquaintance. 

The eldest daughter, May, was younger than 
Eva, and was the image of her mother, slender, 
fair, blue-eyed, and with wavy flaxen hair. The 
other daughter was just the opposite in looks 
and disposition. She and the brother were like 
their father, with dark eyes and hair. From 
that first visit an intimacy sprang up between 
the Cressingeres and Eva. Mrs. Cressingere 
seemed especially fond of Eva, and often invi- 
ted her and her husband to tea or to spend the 
evening. 

There was always a musicale when they came 
together, for one of the girls played the violin, 
the other the guitar, and Eva accompanied 
them upon the piano. Homer Cressingere was 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 


99 


very diffident, but sometimes he would bring 
his flute and thus add to the attractive program 
Horace was taking lessons on the cornet, and 
often urged the ladies to give him a place on the 
program, but they always laughingly said the> 
would rather excuse him for the present. The 
days were busy ones for Horace. His law prac- 
tice increased, and he was also doing a little in 
the way of farming. He wanted to lay aside 
enough from his crops to go East and visit his 
old home. His father and mother, also Eva’s 
were planing to go at the same time, so much 
pleasure was anticipated from the trip. Eva 
had made a visit home soon after her marriage, 
and had persuaded her parents to sell their farm 
and come to Oklahoma. Farms could be pur- 
chased for a small sum, as many men were tired 
of the country, the novelty having worn off, and 
were willing to give up the land if any one 
would pay for the improvement and a little be- 
sides. They would abandon the land, the other 
would move on and take possession in the usual 
way and after the required length of time would 
“prove up,” and thus become the owner of the 
land. Horace found such a claim in his vicin- 
ity. The man’s wife had died and he wanted to 
take his children East, so was willing to sell his 
improvements for four hundred dollars. He 


LofC. 


IOO 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


lost no time in communicating with Mr. Dem- 
ing, and soon he was on the spot and took pos- 
session. Eva was very much pleased, for she 
wanted her mother near her. 

The next move was to get Horace’s parents 
tc come, and this proved to be not a difficult 
task, for they were quite lonely in their Kan- 
sas home and wanted the company of their son 
and daughter oftener than they could have it as 
they were then situated. Finally there was an 
opening, and Horace took advantage of it for 
his parents, and there was a great family gath- 
ering when all were settled within driving dis- 
tance of each other. 

The second summer after coming to the new 
territory they made definite plans to go East in 
the winter, when work would be slack. Almost 
every day Eva was at Mrs. Cressingere’s, and 
that lady told her mother that she loved her like 
a daughter, and that she brought sunshine 
whenever she came in the house. Mrs. Cres- 
singere was of an extremely nervous tempera- 
ment, and there were times when she suffered 
from spells of depression, and no one could 
bring a smile to her face but Eva. Heretofore, 
once a year, she had shut herself up for a week 
or more and would see no one. Since she had 
known Eva she had only given way to this par- 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 


IOI 


ticular melancholy for a day or two. Her hus- 
band told Eva it was the anniversary of a great 
grief, which so far, time had failed to soften, 
but now there was hope that the keenness was 
wearing off. Once Mrs. Cressingere said to Eva, 
“Oh, dear, how light-hearted I feel in your pres- 
ence ! There is a magnetic soothing in your touch 
and if you are only near me, I feel so secure; I 
cannot account for it. If I were a Theosophist, I 
might think that in a previous existence we had 
been intimately connected, or even related ; but 
I am satisfied as it is. Your friendship is very 
dear to me.” Eva assured her that she also 
prized the friendship, and would miss these lit- 
tle chats while away. When the season ended 
Horace found that he had prospered beyond his 
expectations. They were to start East just be^ 
fore Christmas and spend that holiday with his 
people; then all were to go to Mrs. Deming’s 
home and spend New Year’s. After that, they 
were to separate to meet in Washington in 
March, spend a few days sight-seeing, 
then start for home together. Eva took 
a keen delight in all that she saw, but nothing 
appealed to her so much as the beauties of 
nature. 

Mrs. Deming had an invalid sister, who sel- 
dom went from home, and to her Eva promised 


102 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


to describe the trip so that she might in a meas- 
ure enjoy it too. It was not long before the 
“shut in” received this epistle: 

“My Dear Aunt Bessie : — There was an un- 
mistakable drizzle as the train left Washington, 
but ensconsed in a comfortable seat of ont of 
the best coaches of the railroad we bade defiance 
to the weather, and settled ourselves for the en- 
joyment of the trip. As the foothills of the Alle- 
ghenies came in sight, we found they were cov- 
ered with snow, and the white blanket kept in 
view as long as daylight lasted. When we be- 
gan to climb the magnificent blue hills, a grand 
sight burst upon our vision. Old ‘Sugar Loaf 
mount stood grim and hazy, with his towering 
head in the clouds, and we were admiring his 
fine outline and picturesqueness, when suddenly 
the sun burst from the clouds which had envel- 
oped him all day and held him prisoner, and im- 
mediately ‘Sugar Loaf’s’ crown was a blaze of 
glory, such as all the jewels in the world could 
not supply to diadem any monarch. On we 
went, and this splendor was soon lost, but there 
was more beauty left, found in the ever varying 
scenery, lovely spots greeting the eye at every 
turn ; here an old hamlet, there a bit of primeval 
forest, with tall, dark pines, ‘like towering 
plumes’ then before one wearies the scene 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 


103 


changes like a panorama. It is village and 
forest, village and forest, until we climb the 
mountains, and then, O, how near we feel to 
Nature s heart/ for here are rock-ribbed hills, 
just as they left the Creator’s hand. Nestling 
in the sides of these hills we see clusters of 
houses and happy children playing in the nar- 
row streets; only a glimpse and the kaleido- 
scope gives another view, and by this time we 
are nearing Harper’s Ferry. Here the Shen- 
andoah has rent the mighty tower of rocks 
asunder, and on one side Bolivar Heights and 
on the other side Maryland Heights loom up 
massive and grand— a feast for the eyes. The 
low-hung clouds enveloped their tops and in- 
tensified the blue look of their sides. A near 
view developed rocks— mighty rocks piled high 
—with a straggling growth of small pines and 
other forest trees. Harper’s Ferry is a quaint 
old town, with most of the houses in straight 
rows, looking as if they were wedged together, 
and reminding the traveler of sandwiches of 
brick and frame — here a brick house, next a 
frame, then a stone house, perchance again a 
frame, and so on to the end of the row. 

All this is soon left behind, and when we 
come to Piedmont, which name the conductor 
volunteered to tell us meant the foot of the 


104 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


mountain, we begin an ascent of fifteen miles, 
with a grade of one hundred and sixteen feet to 
the mile. At the top is a telegraph station named 
Altamont. Two engines — double-headers, they 
are called — are puffing and snorting like huge 
monsters alive, and the train moves on. We run 
along a level for twenty miles until we come to 
Terra Alta, then we begin a descent and come to 
Cheat River and a mount of the same name, 
when again we climb, but not to such an alti- 
tude as before. 

“Between Clarksburg and Parkersburg, West 
Virginia, there are twenty- three tunnels — some 
long, some so short that we shot through them 
and hardly knew it. There are also fifty-two 
bridges, but so solidly constructed that we could 
hardly realize that they were bridges. All these 
tunnels and bridges are less than one hundred 
miles from first to last. From Parkersburg 
there is not so much variety, and we are content 
to know that we are pushing on, ever westward. 
Through Ohio without event, and on, ever on, 
across the two Ts,’ then Missouri, and at last 
Kansas, through that State so well known, and 
then the homeward stretch. I have crossed the 
Cherokee strip so many times that the novelty 
has worn off, but I know you would be enchant- 
ed with the ride, and I can only hope that some 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 105 

time you will be well enough to visit us and see 
these things for yourself. 

“My letter is really too long, but you wanted 
to know about the trip, so 'no excuses are ne- 
cessary.’ We reached home safely and found 
things in good shape. All are well and send 
kind remembrances. 

“With best wishes for all, I am, 

“Your loving niece, 

“Eva.” 

After the trip East, Eva settled down to the 
prosaic duties of farm life. Every Sabbath she 
and Horace went to church at least once a day, 
and to the Young People’s Meeting, in which 
both took an active interest. The old inti- 
macy with the Cressingeres was renewed, and 
there was an added interest, for May was to be 
married shortly. 

One day Horace came home brimful of news. 
He could hardly wait until he hung up his hat 
before beginning. “Well, Eva, wonders never 
cease, and there is to be another wedding before 
long. I will not ask you to guess who is the 
happy man, for you would hardly think of Phil 
Lee, but so it is. There is quite a romance con- 
nected with the parties. I felt not much sur- 
prise when I heard it, for there are so many 


lo6 A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

curious things happening in this country, that 
1 confess that nothing startles me now. But I 
will tell you the story.” 

“The quarter section beyond Phil’s was taken 
by a morose old fellow, who never had any- 
thing to say to anyone, and finally the neigh- 
bors gave up trying to be sociable. On the ad- 
joining claim was a woman and her daughter, 
named Stone. Phil soon became acquainted 
with the two, and finally was hopelessly in love 
with the daughter, and an engagement is the re- 
sult — but that is not the part of the story I 
started to tell. Mrs. Stone and her daughter 
had never seen their cranky neighbor, except at 
a distance, so they really did not know how he 
looked. One night Mrs. Stone was taken sud- 
denly ill, and was in such agony that she could 
only say to her daughter, ‘Run for the next 
neighbor.’ It was a bright night, and the 
daughter, never thinking of fear, sped as swift- 
ly as possible to the home of the old man, whom 
she soon aroused, and asked for help. He told 
her he had Jamaica ginger in the house, and 
asking him to bring that and come as quickly 
as possible, she hurried home, to find her 
mother no better. She rubbed her well, and as 
soon as possible gave her some of the ginger, 
which seemed to do her good, and after a long 


OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS. 


107 


time, worn out with the suffering, she fell 
asleep, and the daughter, Miss Belle, went to 
look after the neighbor, whom she had left in 
an outer room. She found him looking at a 
picture of herself, which hung on the wall, and, 
without ceremony, he said, ‘Who is that, tell 
me ?’ She replied that it was her own, but the 
man seemed fascinated, and began to tell how 
it looked like someone he had known in Mis- 
souri. He seemed to want to unburden his 
mind, and within an hour he had found out that 
the girl before him was his daughter and the 
sick woman his wife, whom he had long mourn- 
ed as dead. The story, as put together by the 
two, when Mrs. Stone recovered, was that in 
a fit of anger one morning, while the daughter 
was quite young, Mr. Stone had left his home 
in Missouri, and after several months had 
passed, his wife concluded that he was not com- 
ing back. Her father, who lived in Iowa, died 
about that time, and she being the only child, 
fell heir to his estate, and went to the old home 
only long enough to settle up affairs ; then back 
to Missouri, where she sold the farm, which 
was in her own name, and took up her residence 
in Kansas City, where she could educate her 
child. After his fit of pique wore off, the hus- 
band sought his wife, but she had left no trace 


108 A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

of her whereabouts. When the new territory 
was about to be opened, the daughter persuaded 
the mother to let her try her luck, and the in- 
dulgent parent consented. Mr. Stone had been 
engaged in business in Chicago, but a spirit of 
unrest took possession of him, and he, too, re- 
solved to try his fortune in the new land. The 
result I have just told you. Wasn’t it Provi- 
dential ? The trite saying, that ‘truth is strang- 
er than fiction,’ has been ringing in my ears 
ever since I was told the story. It came to me 
in the course of a business transaction, for T 
have been requested to take charge of the prop- 
erty of both Mr. and Mrs. Stone. Phil Lee and 
Belle Stone will be married very soon, and as 
we are to be bidden to the ceremony, you would 
better be looking up a present.” 

Eva was surprised at this story, but more be- 
cause of the part which concerned Phil Lee, for 
there had been so many peculiar things happen- 
ing in the territory, that one rather looked for 
something out of the ordinary as the days went 
by. 


CHAPTER XII. 

A NEW LOVE. 

They come, and thrones are waiting, 

And we their crowns put on ; 

The same in lowly cottage, 

Or palaces of stone.” 

More than a year has passed since Horace 
and Eva returned from their trip, and many 
things happened in that time. A tiny daughter 
has opened her eyes upon the world in their 
home, and the future wears a rosy hue to the 
young parents. 

Mrs. Deming hovers around her convales- 
cing daughter, and exhibits so much solicitude 
that one day she said, “Mama, I sometimes 
compare myself to an old prairie schooner. You 
may not catch my meaning, but as I have 
seen them pass over the trail, I have felt that 
they were freighted with hopes and desires, 
good wishes and expectancy — perhaps all the 
worldly possessions of the owner were stored 


1 10 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


within that small compass, and he was looking 
for a haven of rest. He might have been the dear- 
est love of someone, or he might have been of 
not much account, it mattered not which, there 
was solicitude regarding his movements, and 
he was sometimes the burden of some one’s 
thoughts, if not their prayers. Cannot you see 
how it is with me? I was set adrift on the 
prairie, literally, but someone all these years, 
yes, many, have had me in their thought, and 
have carried me on their love and in their pray- 
ers, and I can go nowhere without that love en- 
compassing me.” But here she was almost 
smothered with kisses, and had to stop for a 
while, but, womanlike, she determined to have 
the last word , and exclaimed, “That only 
proves all that I have said.” 

May Cressingere is married and settled in 
her new home in the near-by towm, and every 
day drives out to see her mother, who has been 
ill with a fever, which the doctors have just 
gotten under control. 

Mrs. Deming several times a day runs over 
to see how Mrs. Cressingere is getting along, 
and at last carries the tidings to Eva that her 
friend has passed the crisis of the fever and will 
recover. Horace is as busy as ever with his 
practice, and, although friends have repeatedly 


A NEW LOVE. 


Ill 


urged him to run for office, his reply has al- 
ways been, “I am not in politics.” He is con- 
tent to seek his home after office hours, and find 
enjoyment in the company of wife and child. 
One evening Horace brought the news that 
Herbert Morea, who had been abroad visiting 
the hospitals of the old world since he gradua- 
ted in medicine, had returned, and was coming 
to consult him upon some legal matter, and 
would stay with him a few days, if it were con- 
venient. He had already made two visits to his 
old friends, upon Horace’s invitation, so knew 
the country and people pretty well. 

Horace said, “Eva, I suspect this is a busi- 
ness trip, sure enough, but I shall not let him 
think that I suspect anything, but will write to- 
night apd tell him we shall be glad to see him.” 
To this Eva acquiesced, and in a few days Dr. 
Morea was heartily welcomed by his old 
friends. 

Mrs. Cressingere had so far recovered that 
the doctor said she might go for a walk the first 
fine day. When she was strong enough, she 
went to Eva’s one bright day. Mrs. Deming 
was there also, and both she and Eva were de- 
lighted to see her. She was put in a comfortable 
chair, and said she would rest, and then would 
look at the baby, who was asleep in another 


112 


A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 


room, and whose crib could be seen through the 
open door. Eva stepped out for a few mo- 
ments, and Mrs. Deming sat in the room sew- 
ing, Mrs. Cressingere said, “Do not disturb 
yourself, Mrs. Deming, I am going to look at 
the baby,” and walked to the crib. She had 
barely reached it and looked at the sleeping 
child, when, with a cry, “Oh, my baby,” she 
fell to the floor in a death-like swoon. Mrs. 
Deming and Eva were terribly frightened, and 
the latter sent the hired man in great haste for 
the doctor. He was not long in coming, but 
worked a good while before consciousness re- 
turned to his patient. He would not let her talk, 
and as soon as she was sufficiently recovered 
put her in a carriage and took her home, where 
she was given a soothing potion and put to bed. 
It seemed the strangest thing, her losing con- 
sciousness in that way, and of course no one 
could account for it. When she was better she 
would not say a word regarding her sudden ill- 
ness to any of the family. She was still in bed 
in a darkened room, when Eva was allowed to 
visit her. Mrs. Cressingere feebly held out her 
hand and greeted her. When they were alone 
she said, “I feel that I must tell you a secret, 
which even my children have never heard me 


A NEW LOVE. 


113 

speak of, for it is a grief so deep seated that I 
never could mention it to them. ,, 

Eva begged her not to attempt to talk while 
she was so exhausted, but she insisted that it 
would be best, so there were no further remon- 
strances, and she proceeded with her story: 
“When I looked at your dear little babe, she 
was such a reminder of my own first born — 
with her dark curly hair — that I succumbed to 
the shock, as you saw. My dear little Ray 
looked just like her the last time I saw her; she 
was asleep in her crib in the bed room, and T 
went to the kitchen to attend to my household 
duties. The time slipped by, and there was no 
sound from the baby, so I thought she was sim- 
ply sleeping longer than usual. Finally I went 
in, only to find an empty crib. O, the horror 
of that time ! It nearly crazes me now, to think 
of it. Mr. Cressingere was practicing medicine 
then, and had gone to see a patient, but I was 
expecting him at any moment. However, I did 
not wait, but ran out bareheaded to give the 
alarm. Our house set a little apart from the 
others, and before I reached the nearest I saw 
my husband coming. I just shrieked ‘the baby 
is gone/ and then I knew no more for weeks. I 
have never been the same since. Every able- 
bodied man joined in the search, but the baby 


1 14 A PRAIRIE SCHOONER. 

never was heard of, although we spent almost 
a fortune in advertising. It was reported that 
there had been Indians around, only a short 
while before, but they could not be overtaken. 
Just about that time they were giving a good 
deal of trouble in Kansas, but no one ever saw 
them in that part of Nebraska again. The un- 
certainty of the fate of my dear little girl almost 
causes me to lose my reason at times, and as 
each anniversary of her loss comes around, I 
think I shall go mad. I am always better when 
you are near me, and even now I feel better for 
telling you this terribly sad story.” 

Eva was weeping, and was so overpowered 
by what she had heard, that she could only sit 
and stroke the hand of the sick woman, until 
she regained her composure. 

Finally, she said, “How old was your baby, 
and how was she dressed ?” She was prepared 
for the answer which came, and, controlling 
herself, said, “If you will not get excited, I will 
tell you a story.” But Mrs. Cressingere said, 
“Do you know anything about her? Oh, tell 
me, tell me quickly.” 

Eva saw that it would be better to end the 
suspense at once, and said, “I am your daugh- 
ter.” It did not take long to tell the story Eva 
had heard from Mrs. Deming, and the joy it 


A NEW LOVE. 


”5 

brought to Mrs. Cressingere did more than any 
medicine for her. She embraced her child, and 
\yept over her tears of great rejoicing. She was 
like a new woman, and left the bed at once, for 
she said she must be the first to present the long- 
lost daughter to her father, and the sister to her 
sisters and brother. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE MYSTERY CLEARED. 

"And so I do not dare to pray 
For winds to waft me on my way, 

But leave it to a higher will 

To stay or speed me, trusting still 

That all is well, and sure that He 

Who launched my bark will sail with me 

Through storm and calm, and will not fail, 

Whatever breezes may prevail, 

To land me, every peril past, 

Within the sheltered haven at last.” 

There was great rejoicing in that house, and 
Mr. and Mrs Deming rejoiced with the parents, 
for they felt that they would lose no love be- 
cause of the new-found ties. The little gar- 
ments which Eva had on when found had been 
carefully preserved, and were brought to Mrs. 
Cressingere, who fully identified them, they 
being her own handiwork. The baby was 
brought over and put in Mrs. Cressingere’s lap, 
and she seemed never to tire of looking at her, 


the mystery cleared. 


ll l 

for was she not the image of her own first-born, 
so long lost to her? After consultation with 
Horace, Eva announced that the baby’s name 
was Ray, and this pleased everyone.” 

In the evening May and her husband came 
home and contributed to the general rejoicing. 
Eva seemed in danger of being petted to death, 
but in the midst of it Kate, the youngest daugh- 
ter, came in, and announced that they might 
turn their attention to her for awhile, and pre- 
pare for another wedding soon, as she had told 
Dr. Morea that she would be responsible for 
him in the future. Of course there were excla- 
mations, and cries for the happy man to be 
brought in, that he might be congratulated. 
But the mother’s attention could not be long 
diverted; she was unspeakably happy in the 
knowledge that her eldest daughter was all that 
a mother could desire. 

And as a Prairie Schooner goes on its way 
carrying the many 1 things essential to the com- 
fort of those most concerned — the homely ev- 
eryday adjuncts, the articles of adornment, and 
the living, breathing occupants — so my story is 
given to the world freighted with those things 
which made the woe or weal of those most con- 
cerned. 



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